Love Isn't Always Beautiful
by RachelDalloway
Summary: They have each other, but will that be enough for what lies ahead? Is it even enough for everything that happens just during the first few years of their marriage? The epic tale of Jack and Rose's life together. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Love Isn't Always Beautiful

Jack watched Rose stare up at the Statue of Liberty. She was entranced and didn't seem to notice the rain. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she regretting the decisions she made the night before? His stomach tightened, knotting around a ball of fear. _She loves you_. _If she didn't she wouldn't have done all of that. _Yet he couldn't help but doubt it just a little—after all, what could he ever really give her? He knew who he was and he knew who she was.

Rose noticed Jack's gaze had been lingering on her for quite some time, but she wasn't sure why. _I know I look awful,_ she thought. Unable to take it anymore, she turned her head slightly and met his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he answered quietly. "I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. He wasn't sure how to say what was on his mind. "Rose," he began slowly, "you don't…" He let the sentence dangle, unfinished. "Don't what, Jack?" Rose's voice held a hint of worry. The hint urged him to finish his question. "You don't wish you'd decided to stay with—" "No!" Rose exclaimed, cutting him off. "How—why would you ever think that?" she asked incredulously.

"I was just afraid you, that maybe you'd realized how serious the choices you made last night were, and you were regretting some things." Jack took her hand. "I don't want you to be regretting anything," he added, stroking her palm with his thumb. "But if you are…" He looked down at her hand in his. Her hand looked so small compared to his. Her skin was so much lighter than his—she'd never spent the kind of time in the sun he had. She'd also never done anything compared to the kind of work he had. Her hands were so soft, so smooth. He gently traced her palm with his slightly calloused fingertips. "But if you are," he started again, determined to finish this time, "I'll understand." He looked into her eyes. "I really will understand if that's what you need—to go back."

Rose couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was speechless for a few seconds after Jack finished talking. "Are you saying you want me to go back?" she asked, afraid of the answer. "Do you—"she could feel herself beginning to cry and was trying to hold it together. "Do you—" she tried again, tears springing to her eyes this time.

Jack pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. She was crying heavily now, her words muffled by his shirt. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her curls. "I love you, I love you," he chanted, squeezing her tighter. "I don't want you to ever leave me." He tilted her face up, holding it in his hands. His thumbs stroked her tear-streaked cheeks. "Never. Okay? I survived because of you, and not just because of what you did for me. You are the best thing that ever happened to me." He kissed her. Leaning so their foreheads met, her face still in his hands, continued quietly, "I want to marry you."

"You do?" Rose was shocked—and overjoyed. "You really want to marry me?"

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "I want to marry you as soon as possible. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you." He took her hands. "I want to show you the world, Rose. The _real_ world, the things I've seen. I want to watch the fire get stronger."

Rose was crying again, but tears of joy this time. She wrapped her arms around Jack. "Yes, yes, all of that!" "You mean it?" "I've never wanted anything more," she said, looking up into his eyes. "I love you, Jack."

He didn't say anything else, just kissed her. He kissed her for a long time.

Eventually they came back to reality, and realized they were soaked from the rain. It was still early in the day, but they couldn't stand around forever. It would be night before they knew it.

Hand in hand they walked toward a man in a White Star Line uniform. He was calling out to survivors to come forward and give their names. "And who are you two?" he asked. Jack started to answer, but Rose beat him to it. "Dawson," she said. "Jack and Rose Dawson." "Thank you," he said, walking on to collect more names.

"You used my name." Jack could only stare at her. "What?" "Just then. You used my name." "Of course I did." Rose wondered what he was getting at. "Would you rather I hadn't?" "It isn't that I would rather you hadn't," he replied. "I guess I just didn't expect it." "But you just asked me to marry you," Rose laughed. "You're right. I did." Jack grinned. "I don't know what I was thinking. It's so unreal to me—that you would want this." "We're not going over this again, Jack," Rose said quietly. "I love you, and I want to be with you." He nodded and squeezed her hand. "Okay. Settled then."

Just then another White Star Line official began making an announcement. "All survivors of the _Titanic_ sinking will be given free lodgings and tickets out of New York City if they so desire—"

Jack and Rose smiled at each other. Things were looking up.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack and Rose discovered the White Star Line wasn't just providing lodgings for the survivors—it was providing them at the best hotels in the city. Their "room" was actually three—a bedroom, sitting room, and bathroom. It even resembled Rose's room on the Titanic a bit.

Jack couldn't help but be taken aback by his surroundings. He stood in the doorway and just let his eyes wander. He'd never desired wealth, and he still didn't. However, he couldn't help but be a bit blown away by the opulence of his surroundings. Rose, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. She motioned for Jack to close the door. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he answered. "I just can't believe they gave us this."

"We don't have to stay here…I mean, if you.." Rose trailed off. What was she trying to say exactly? Jack looked at her curiously. "What?"

"I just meant that if you thought we should—"

"Wait," he interrupted her. "Do you not want to stay here?" Rose felt like squirming under his gaze. "It's not that," she said slowly. "I just don't want you to think I couldn't handle it somewhere else."

"Rose."

"Yes?" she asked tentatively.

"I don't think that."

"You don't?"

"No." Jack laughed. "You need to stop worrying so much." He took her hand. "Didn't we already go over something similar to this earlier?"

Rose nodded. "I know."

"Alright then," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Let's not talk about it anymore. There's something more important we could be doing."

Rose looked up at him, slightly confused. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

"Well, I was thinking we could get married—if you want to," he said quickly. Rose stared at him. "Today?" she asked sounding as though she were slightly out of breath. "Yeah." Jack wondered if maybe he shouldn't have brought it up so soon. "But we don't have to," he added.

"I want to!" Rose cried, tightening her arms around him.

"You do?" Jack was shocked by how relieved he felt.

"Yes, of course I do." Rose raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you just saying something to me about worrying too much?"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "I might have said something like that."

"Well, you think about that and I'll go try and make myself look decent," Rose said, as she headed toward the bathroom. She didn't have any other clothes, but she could take a bath. It would be better than nothing.

"You never look decent," Jack called after her.

Rose spun around in shock. "What?"

"You're always beautiful."

Rose shook her head. "You—" she wanted to be annoyed, but instead found it impossible to suppress a smile. "You need to behave while I'm in here," she said, removing her coat and shoes. She left them outside the door, which she shut behind her.

Jack picked up the coat. Maybe it could be sold. He still had $10 in his pocket, though he wasn't sure how it hadn't gotten lost at some point during the sinking. However, he knew that wasn't nearly enough. Rose was willing to live however he did, but he wasn't going to let her experience life on the streets. There would be no sleeping under a bridge for her. He knew he couldn't give her anything close to what she'd always had, but he was determined to give her _something._

He turned the coat over, and as he did he noticed one side felt slightly heavier than the other. Puzzled he reached into the pocket. His hands closed around a hard object. _What is that?_ he thought. He felt around a bit more as the realization hit him that he knew exactly he was holding. "It can't be," he said aloud, pulling his hand out of the pocket. It was. Jack stared, dumbfounded, at the Heart of the Ocean.

"Why—" Before he could finish the question another, more important one, entered his mind. What might be in the other pocket?

Quickly he laid the necklace on a table and plunged his hand into the other pocket. It was almost as though he were watching someone else as he laid stack after stack of money onto the table. Slowly he recovered from his shock. Here was the answer he needed. Here was what he needed to provide for Rose until he found another way, until they figured out what they were going to do next.

He heard the sound of Rose getting out of the tub. He grabbed the necklace and money and shoved them back into the coat pockets.

Rose stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Her hair framed her face, the curls straightened temporarily by the water. Her eyes were brighter than they had been since the disaster began. She smiled at Jack. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing," he answered hoping his voice sounded calm. "I need to go take care of something. Will you be okay here for a little bit?"

Rose nodded. "Where are you going?"

"It's a surprise," Jack said, giving her a quick kiss. "I won't be long," he added as he stepped out the door, coat in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack hurried down the street holding the coat in a vise-like grip. He knew exactly what he was after, and when he reached the building he needed he stopped and carefully pulled a few bills from one of the stacks, making sure to keep it out of sight. He shoved the freed bills into his pocket and went inside.

His quest took about 2 hours, and it was already almost mid-afternoon by the time he finished. He hurried back to the hotel hoping Rose hadn't started to worry.

He called out to her as she opened the door, but she didn't answer. He discovered her curled up on the bed in a deep sleep, still in the towel. Jack quietly laid his new purchases—and the coat—in the closet before lying down beside her. He slid his arm under her, gently pulling her into a backwards spoon.

Rose opened her eyes and found herself in Jack's arms. He was asleep, his cheek resting on her head. _He's beautiful_, she thought. _Maybe that isn't the word you're supposed to use for man, but that's what he is right now. _She lay there quietly and watched him sleep, wondering what—if anything—he was dreaming about.

It wasn't long before he began stirring. "Are you watching me sleep?" he asked teasingly, eyes still closed.

"Something wrong with that?" Rose replied in a mock-offended tone.

"It's a little weird, you gotta admit," he said opening his eyes. Rose pretended to gasp in shock. Jack laughed and began to sit up, pulling her up with him.

"Did you take care of what you needed to?" Rose asked. She hadn't the faintest idea what he had gone off to do, but she hoped if she brought it up he might tell her.

"I did." Jack grinned and kissed the top of her head. "In fact, I'll show you what I did." He extracted his arm from beneath Rose and stood up. Rose watched as he reached into the closet. _What does he have in there?_ Her curiosity only increased when he removed a plain white box.

"This," he said sitting down beside her, "is for you."

"What is it?"

"Open it."

Jack watched her slowly untie the ribbon holding the lid on. _Maybe she won't like it. _He held his breath as she removed the lid and reached inside. Silently she lifted out a green silk dress, very much like the one she wore while "flying."

For a moment neither of them said anything. Rose stared at the beautiful garment in her hands. Jack nervously watched her, waiting for her reaction.

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "How did you—"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter how. Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Rose was incredulous. "Jack, I love it. I just don't see how we could possibly have had the money for something like this. It's so—it must have cost—"

"Let me worry about that," he said gently. "Please. At least for now."

"But Jack—"

"I want to do this for you. You deserve this. You deserve to get married in something as beautiful as you are, and I might never be able to give you anything like this again."

Rose nodded slowly. "Okay, but eventually you have to tell me how you did this."

"Okay. Look in the box again."

"There's more?" Rose couldn't hide the shock in her voice. Jack just smiled. "Look and see."

She peered into the box and discovered another, much smaller box. "Is this what I think it is?"Jack didn't answer. He reached across her and picked up the small box. "That depends," he said, opening it, "on what you think it is."

Rose could only stare in wonder at the ring in the box Jack held out to her. It was silver with a small, white pearl.

"It's so beautiful," she said finally.

"You like it?"

"I love it!"

Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she hadn't liked it. "Then may I have your hand?" he asked in an exaggeratedly haughty tone. "You may," Rose answered in an equally exaggerated tone. Jack slid the ring on her finger, and for a moment they just gazed at each other.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks for the reviews so far. I'm glad there are a few people out there who like this, and I fixed the missing "you" at the end of chapter two.

Ruth sat stiffly in a chair in her hotel suite. She too had taken advantage of the White Star Line's offer of free accommodations. After all, it was probably going to be the last time she ever enjoyed the luxury to which she felt she was entitled. She had a train ticket to Philadelphia, but it didn't leave for another 3 days. Until then she had nothing else to do but remain in her room. She didn't want to see any of the other survivors. It was too shameful, even if they didn't know the truth about what happened to her daughter. Their pitying looks and empty offers of support were too much for her to bear.

Grief wasn't her problem, though she was certain Rose was indeed dead. How could anything else have happened? There was no way she could have made it out alive, at least no way Ruth could see. No, grief wasn't her problem. It might be eventually, but at that moment she was too caught up in other things.

What would she do now? What would she tell people when they asked what happened? How was she to explain away Rose's death? She couldn't say, "Well, she ran back into the sinking ship, and after that I never saw her again." No, she could never say that even though that's exactly what happened. Nor could she say, "She met this—this _boy_ and he somehow convinced her to…" She couldn't finish the sentence because she wasn't entirely sure _what_ exactly he had convinced her to do. She'd seen the drawing alright, but there was more to it. She'd also seen the way they'd looked at each other. The simple truth was Rose had given up her life to be with _him._

"She threw away everything," Ruth said aloud. Her voice echoed in the silent room. "_Everything_—and for what?"

Just then a sharp knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts. Irritated at being interrupted, she quickly opened it and found herself staring into the faces of two of the women from Titanic's first class.

"We heard this was your room, and we wanted to make sure you were doing alright," the first one, a petite blonde said.

"Yes, do you need anything at all?" added the other one, a tall brunette.

Ruth stared at them for a moment, unable to form an acceptable answer. It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out, "What I need is for my daughter to not have been so foolish with her choices", but she had been well-trained.

"I'm quite alright, thank you," she said graciously. "It was good of you to think of me."

"Would you like to have dinner with us?" asked the blonde. She seemed to be the leader. The brunette nodded. "Yes, we would love it if you would join us."

Ruth didn't believe for a second the two women sought her out because they were concerned. They barely knew her. They wanted information. She had underestimated how quickly things can get around.

She opened her mouth, ready to decline their invitation, but what actually came out was, "That would be lovely."

Deep down she knew refusing their offer would only fuel the gossip fires even more, and she also knew it might be the last dinner of its kind. Once people found out the truth about her it would all be over.

Just as Ruth was accepting a dinner invitation, Jack and Rose were repeating their wedding vows. Their wedding only lasted about 3 minutes.

And just like that it was over. They were married.

Rose couldn't believe it. It all seemed so unreal. Less than a week earlier she had been engaged to Cal, and now here she was married to someone else. _Not just someone else_, she reminded herself. _You're married to Jack. _

A small part of her had never believed it would actually happen. She trusted her feelings—and him—completely, and once she accepted how she felt it was obvious what she had to do. Yet she hadn't been able to shake the gnawing fear that something would go wrong. It was too good to be true. After all, marriage, as far as her old world was concerned, had very little to do with love. By the standards of her old world, she had just made one of the biggest mistakes a woman can make, but she didn't care.

Jack couldn't believe it either. _How did this happen?_ _Why me?_

And then something else entered his mind, something he was ashamed of thinking even as he did so.

_Looks like _I _won. _


	5. Chapter 5

AN: This chapter might be more M than T. I'm sorry if anyone doesn't like it.

Ruth wasn't surprised by how easily she slipped into her public role. She had always liked it, and unlike Rose didn't understand what could be so suffocating about it. What was wrong with a few hours of simple—if sometimes a bit vapid—conversation? What was wrong with rating people based on their background and bank balance? Didn't those things show they had made an effort? Truly, she believed those on the "bottom" were there because they just didn't understand there was a better way to live.

Looking around the hotel's lavish dining room she thought, _how could Rose not have wanted this? How could she give this up—and for _him?

It would have been different if she had left Cal because she found someone better. Ruth could have understood that. After all, there were wealthier and better connected men out there, and in her opinion Rose could have had any one of them if she'd only cared to. Why she never bothered was a mystery to Ruth. Why Cal had been so willing to marry her when she barely paid the slightest bit of attention to him was also a mystery. However, it was true that beauty could go a long way toward securing a man's interest, and there was no question about whether or not Rose was beautiful.

_But she wasn't smart,_ Ruth thought bitterly. In this world a woman had to have a man, but not just any man. She needed someone who could take care of her. _And I have no-one to do that anymore_.

Almost as if cued by her thought, Cal strode into the dining room. His entrance caught the attention of most of the women there, and that fact wasn't lost on him. He flashed a smile at each one as he made his way to his table.

Glancing around the room he accidentally caught Ruth's eye. They stared at each other silently for a moment before he nodded and tilted his head slightly in the direction of the door.

They would discuss the situation later.

Meanwhile Jack and Rose were skipping dinner altogether. After leaving the courthouse they headed back to the hotel, and though neither ever said what was going on they both knew.

In the elevator Jack began to slowly stroke Rose's palm with his thumb. He didn't look in her direction, just continued staring straight ahead as if nothing was happening. Rose did nothing to acknowledge she knew what he was doing.

When they finally reached their floor and stepped out into the hallway—and the elevator attendant was safely out of sight—she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a frenzied kiss.

"How could you do that to me?" she whispered.

Jack didn't answer. With one quick movement he swept her into his arms and started carrying her to their room. Rose recognized the look in his eyes. She'd known all along what he was up to in the elevator, but now that she could clearly see it things were a bit different.

It wasn't that she didn't want him because she did—very much. She just wasn't sure she was supposed to want what was about to happen as much as she did. That just wasn't how things worked. She'd been surprised by the force of her feelings and by the way she had been acting on them. She had most definitely not been behaving like a well-brought up girl.

She was so lost in thought she didn't notice when Jack carried her into their room. She did notice his lips on her neck. Slowly he kissed the space between her ear and shoulder. She sighed quietly and tilted her head to give him easier access.

"So you like that, miss?" he asked in a mock servant tone. Rose nodded. "Yes," she answered in the best exaggerated society woman voice she could. If he could play than so could she.

Jack gently lowered her onto the bed and positioned himself beside her. He slowly ran his fingertips across her cheek. He'd never known a person could have skin as soft as hers.

"I love you," he said quietly. Rose smiled. "I know you do."

"You know that's not exactly the answer I was looking for."

She giggled. "Wasn't it?"

Jack shook his head as though he were terribly disappointed. "Oh well."

"Jack." Rose's voice held no hint of teasing.

He looked deep into her eyes. Was something wrong? He chose not to say anything. It was best to wait for her to continue.

"I love you so much."

He smiled. "Nothing wrong then?"

"Oh no," Rose said quickly.

Jack just leaned down and began kissing her. She responded by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him on top of her. Jack groaned quietly. His skin felt like it was on fire. He shifted the arm he still had around her slightly to give him more room to work on the buttons on her dress. He had reached the conclusion that it needed to come off as quickly as possible.

Rose squirmed under his weight, enjoying the way his body felt pressed against hers. She could tell her was trying desperately to unbutton her dress, but the buttons were tiny and he was only working with one hand. She didn't want to wait the half hour it would probably take him.

"Stop," she whispered pulling away from the kiss.

"What?" Jack was confused. "Do you not—"

"Just wait a moment," she said untangling herself from him. She climbed off the bed and quickly began unbuttoning her dress. It didn't take her long to finish.

"Are you watching me?" she asked.

Jack nodded. "I'm watching," he said huskily.

Rose smiled haughtily. "Good." She lightly shrugged the dress from her shoulders. Slowly it slid down her body and formed a pool of green silk around her feet.

Jack could only stare. He hadn't known she wasn't wearing anything underneath the dress.

"Why are you staring?" Rose felt self-conscious under his gaze. He'd seen so many other women's bodies. Was he comparing her?

"You're just so beautiful."

Rose blushed. She didn't know why she felt so nervous this time. Maybe it was because now they had time. There was no chance of someone discovering them. They weren't running from anyone. Would that make things better or worse?

"Rose."

"Yes?"

"Would you come here?"

She stepped over to him. He grabbed her hands and pulled her back onto the bed. She giggled. "Not eager are you?" she teased, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt.


	6. Chapter 6

The first time was frenzied. It went by in a rush of passion that left both of them breathless. It had to be like that. They didn't have the luxury of time, and had either of them stopped to really think clearly they would have realized how precarious a position they were getting into, but it didn't matter anymore because that night was over. They made it through.

But Jack was determined to make this one last as long as he could.

Ruth never did get to have that discussion with Cal. He ducked out of the dining room when she wasn't looking, and although she could have found out what room he was in she chose not to. What was the point? What could possibly be said that could tell her more clearly how things stood between them?

She went to bed early and slept through breakfast for the first time in her life. It was just as well considering what she would have heard had she gone.

Cal went to breakfast—much to the chagrin of the other men there. Perhaps it wasn't entirely his fault that he couldn't understand why Rose had always been so disinterested in him considering the number of women in the dining room who found him quite interesting.

As he sipped his coffee he listened to the conversations going on around him. He was just beginning to start drifting off into his own thoughts when he heard women's voices whispering at the table behind him. Intrigued he tilted his head back a bit, hoping to hear what was so scandalous.

"I tell you I heard something last night. "

"You did not."

"I did!"

"What was it then?"

"It was…it sounded like…."

"Like what?" The second woman was becoming impatient.

Cal was too. _I'd better not be listening to this for nothing. _

Finally the first woman spit it out or rather, tried to, "It sounded like—"she lowered her voice even more, "_that_."

Cal's impatience was suddenly gone. Were these two perfectly respectable young women discussing the sexual activities of others?

"It did not!"

"It did!"

"Wait, I thought the room next to yours was empty."

"It was until yesterday morning. This couple checked into it."

"Do you know who they were?"

"No, but I think they had something to do with the _Titanic._"

"Why do you think that?"

"Something about the way they looked—like they just didn't belong in a hotel like this. Except, well, she could have passed for a lady, I think, had she been wearing fresher clothes."

Cal refused to jump to any conclusions. After all, there were lots of people who had survived the sinking running around this hotel regardless of where they really belonged. One woman who might possibly pass for a lady under the right circumstances meant nothing. They were dead.

"What about the man?"

"Oh no, he definitely didn't belong here, but…"

"Would you stop that!"

Cal silently agreed with the second woman.

"Well, he was just so—so _handsome._"

"Is that all?"

"You didn't see him. You can't understand. He had this blonde hair that fell into his eyes—the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen!"

Cal couldn't believe his ears.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: This one's a bit short, but another one should be coming soon.

The afternoon sun was streaming through the window when Rose opened her eyes. It was the latest she had ever slept in, and she was shocked to have done it. Something didn't seem right. Wasn't something dreadful going to happen as a punishment for not being perfectly dressed and at breakfast by 7 a.m.?

She lay there for a few moments, and when a bolt of lightning didn't strike her, decided that yet another thing she had been taught as a child was untrue.

She thought about getting up, but it was impossible. Her legs were intertwined with Jack's. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, and his head rested on her shoulder. The only way she could untangle herself would be if she woke him up.

She lay there watching him sleep for what seemed like hours, but it actually wasn't long before Jack opened his eyes.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey. What time is it?"

"I don't know. I haven't been able to get up and find out."

"Why not?" Jack asked, confused, before realizing the human pretzel they had formed. "Oh. I see."

"I was waiting for you to wake up, but it seemed like you were going to sleep right on through into the night."

Jack lightly kissed her along the jaw line. "You exhausted me."

"Jack!" Rose blushed deeply.

"I'm sorry," he said, slightly taken aback. "I didn't mean it was a bad thing."

"I know you didn't." Rose's tone was apologetic. "I know it sounds stupid, but there's this part of me that is having trouble accepting...well, how I feel about some things."

"I understand."

"I don't even know if I do," Rose laughed. "It sounds so crazy."

"Don't worry about it." He gently hugged her. "You didn't grow up in a world where _any_thing you've done lately was considered possible."

"You're right." Rose sighed. "It's just frustrating. It's as though there are two of me. There's the me who thinks making love to you is wonderful—"Here was Jack's turn to blush. Rose smirked and continued, "And there's the me that's ashamed of even _thinking_ like that."

"Don't worry about it," Jack repeated. "There's nothing wrong with you. At all. Okay?"

Rose nodded. "I'll try not to."

He smiled. "Good. Now, how do you propose we untangle ourselves?"

The breakfast crowd had all but cleared out but Cal hadn't noticed. He was too wrapped up in what he had heard. _There is no way_, he told himself. _Absolutely no way. _It had to be a coincidence. He was sure of that, yet why couldn't he just forget about it?

"Goddamnit," he muttered.

He knew the only way he could forget about it would be if he looked into the matter himself. That was all there was to do. Go and prove that gossip had no idea what she was talking about.


	8. Chapter 8

After his discovery at breakfast Cal had gone to the hotel's head waiter determined to find out what room the gossipy woman was staying in. It had cost him, but in the end he found out what he wanted to know.

However, he chose not to investigate right then. The time didn't feel quite right to him. Besides, he had other things to do—like arrange to go home. He didn't want to stay in New York forever. He would satisfy his curiosity in the afternoon instead.

Ruth made an appearance at lunch. She didn't think it would look right if she missed two meals in a row. Someone might notice and start talking, and that was the last thing she wanted. There would be plenty for them to talk about once she got back to Philadelphia. The house—and everything else—couldn't go unsold forever.

She was too busy getting lost in her self-pity to notice when Cal walked up to her. He stood slightly behind her and waited for her to acknowledge him but after a few seconds realized she wasn't going to. He loudly cleared his throat. Ruth whipped her head around, startled by the sudden noise.

"Oh," she said, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I didn't realize you were there."

Cal swallowed the first reply that came to his mind and said, "I'm sure you have a lot on your mind right now."

Ruth nodded.

He continued, "I just wanted to ask if you would be available sometime this evening—so we can discuss a few things."

"Yes, I will be. When did you have in mind?"

"Around 8 o'clock. I'll meet you in the lounge."

"Alright."

Meanwhile Jack and Rose were happily unaware of what was going on around them. They ordered lunch in their room and settled into a discussion of the future.

"What do you want to do?" Jack asked.

"You mean in general or in life?"

"You can tell me either," he grinned.

"Well, in life I guess I….I don't exactly know. Everything's always kind of been decided for me. I've never thought about it too deeply before."

"If you could do anything, what would it be?"

"I'd…I'd head out to the horizon whenever I feel like it," Rose said, looking into his eyes.

"Do you really mean that?" Jack's tone was serious.

"Yes. I meant it when I said it that first time. Why? Would you not want to live like that with me along?"

"It isn't that," he replied carefully. "It's just I want to give you the kind of life you want and need—" Rose started to interrupt him. He held his hand up, asking her to wait. "I know how structured your life has been. I know how completely restricted you've been—in every way. I just don't want you to grab for the opposite too quickly and then realize you'd rather have something more secure, that's all. I trust that you love me, but I want to know you know what we'd be getting into."

Rose was silent for a moment as she considered his words. "I understand. I really do. I truly don't want to just stay in one place and always pretty much know how the day's going to go—at least not right now. Maybe eventually I will, but right now I want to live those stories we made up for ourselves."

"Okay. As long as you understand everything we _won't_ have."

"I'll have you."

Jack smiled. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Where shall we go first then?"


	9. Chapter 9

After some deliberation they decided not to go any one particular place, but rather to choose one at random and go from there. The plan was mostly Rose's idea. Jack was still a bit skeptical about jumping back into the life of a wanderer and taking Rose with him for the ride, but he didn't say anything. He didn't doubt her strength or her intelligence. He didn't doubt that she really wanted it. Yet there was this part of him that just wanted to give her _more,_ but what exactly that would be he didn't know. He knew money wasn't the answer. He knew what she needed was for the fire to keep growing, and the only way for that to happen would be for her to, well, as she put it, _live._

His mind understood everything, but his heart was terrified he would put her in a situation she wasn't prepared for.

So they walked to the train station, silently hand in hand. It was a beautiful day. Rose was overcome by how different the world looked to her. She kept suppressing the urge to point out what to her were dazzling new discoveries.

Jack watched her expression change out of the corner of his eye. He saw her face go from delighted to shocked to pensive and then back around again within a 3-minute span, and he liked it. There was a heaviness that had been in her eyes when he met her and it finally seemed to be lifting.

"Having fun?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh yes," Rose answered. "I don't know why just walking down the street is so exciting to me."

"Did you ever just walk somewhere before?"

She thought about it for a moment. "No, actually, I never really did. Obviously I've walked places before, but I was always surrounded by people. There was never that much time to just look around and notice everything. Also, I only went to certain places."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Respectable places, I'm sure," he said in his best upper class voice.

"Always!" Rose pretended to be shocked.

"Whatever made you want to throw in with me?" Jack laughed.

"I…" Rose wasn't sure how to answer. There didn't seem to be any words capable to explaining. She brought their clasped hands to her lips and kissed his.

They were quiet after that, each lost in their own thoughts.

When they reached the train station they read the board with the list of trains coming in and going out over the next week.

"Where do you want to eventually end up?" Jack asked. "Or does it matter? Because if we're trying to eventually make it somewhere specific, we might want to try to head in that general direction."

Rose was overwhelmed by just how much freedom they had. "We could eventually end up in California. I've always thought it would be nice to go there."

Jack smiled remembering their "imaginary" plans about Santa Monica. "Okay. Well, we could take this one to Virginia."

Rose nodded. "Okay."

"So, it leaves the day after tomorrow."

Meanwhile Cal was exploring. He found their room and just to see what would happen, knocked on the door.

No answer.

_Obviously even if it is them_—which he was trying to convince himself it was not—_they wouldn't know it was you knocking so they wouldn't know to avoid it. No-one's here._

Rather than stand around in the hallway looking strange, he decided to head back to his own room for awhile.

_They'll have to come back eventually._

Jack and Rose were on their way up the elevator just as Cal was heading down in the other one.


	10. Chapter 10

Cal slipped back down to their room a little after six o'clock. He knocked again, but this time something unexpected happened.

The door swung open.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Cal quickly stepped inside.

_An hour earlier_

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" Rose asked as she slipped into her shoes.

"Because it's a surprise."

"Will I like it?"

"Hope so." He took her hand. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Rose was confused. "Haven't we gone over this?"

"Then close your eyes."

She closed her eyes.

He led her to a small bar in the Village. It wasn't visible from the street. To get to it they had to go down a set of stairs and into the basement of a building. Inside it was lit only by candles handing from the ceiling. A bar ran the length of the back wall and tables were scattered around the main part of the room. When they got there the place was crowded with dancing couples and groups.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Rose was speechless at first.

"Oh Jack, this is incredible. How did you know about it?" she asked after a moment.

"I found it the last time I was in New York. I used to come in here and watch people."

"Did you watch many women?" Rose arched an eyebrow.

"Not like that."

"Oh."

"C'mon let's sit down," he said heading toward an empty table.

"You know," he began once they were settled; "I haven't seen _that many_ women."

Rose shot him an "Uh-huh" look.

"Okay, so there were a few, but that doesn't bother you, does it?"

Rose shook her head. "No, it doesn't bother me."

"I just don't want you to think I just went around chasing after naked girls before I met you."

"I never thought that, and besides, what you did before you met me doesn't matter." She smiled at him.

"You are so wonderful," he said returning the smile. "Would you care to dance with me?"

They danced for hours. Lost in the motion and the music they forgot everything else in the world existed. Eventually, though, reality caught up with them.

"I think my legs are numb," Rose laughed, dropping into a chair.

"Mine too." Jack dropped into the chair beside her. "Should we go?"

"That might be a good idea."

"Okay." Jack pulled himself out of the chair and offered Rose his hand.

They were quiet on the walk back to the hotel. Outside the door Rose looked up and noticed the moon was full.

"Jack look," she said happily and pointed at the moon.

"Wow."

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," Jack said.

There wasn't much conversation after that. Hands clasped they quickly made their way to the elevator.


	11. Chapter 11

Cal turned on the light and looked around the room. There wasn't anything of much interest. Whoever was staying there didn't have any luggage, and that in of itself was odd. He was just about to give up and leave when he noticed the closet.

_Might as well_, he thought.

Quickly he pushed the room's door shut behind him and crossed the room and pulled open the closet door. All he saw were a few pieces of clothing on hangers. A folded black coat sat on the shelf above the clothes rack.

_This was a waste of time. _

He was turning around to leave when one of the hangers caught his eye. At first he hadn't paid much attention to it—it was just a dress and all dresses pretty much looked the same to him—but something about this one looked familiar. He reached out and removed the hanger from the rack. Holding the dress out in front of him he realized why the dress looked familiar.

He had no idea how long he had been standing there staring at the dress when his shock was broken by the sound of voices. Not wanting to be discovered—how would he explain what he was doing?—he grabbed the closet door and pulled it so that it only remained open a crack.

Jack and Rose were too engrossed in each other to notice the door was unlocked and the light was on. They stumbled into the room, arms wrapped around each other, locked in a kiss.

Jack kicked the door closed as Rose began pulling him toward the bed. She dropped onto it and brought him down with her.

"I think you're the eager one now," he teased sliding his hands across her back.

"Maybe," she whispered kissing his ear.

Jack sighed. He gently began to push Rose onto her back.

"Come here," she mock commanded looking up at him.

"In a moment miss," Jack replied in his haughty servant voice. He walked over to the desk against the wall between the bed and the closet. He reached into the middle drawer and pulled out a sheet of blank paper.

"May I?" he asked turning to face her.

Rose smiled and nodded.

He turned back to the desk and began looking for a something to draw with. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a flicker of movement in the tiny space between the closet door and the wall.

_You're hallucinating_, he told himself.

Yet he turned to Rose and said, "I can't find a pen. Would you go downstairs and ask for one?"

Rose stared at him for a second, puzzled. "Sure."

She smoothed her rumpled dress and headed out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

_Cal's Perspective on the Previous Scene:_

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

There they were—right in front of his eyes. How were they alive? He chased them down into a sinking ship. Where could they have gone? Even if they did manage to get back to the deck, how could they have survived that water?

He didn't have time to ponder the situation because he was distracted by what was going on in front of him. Not ten feet away from him Rose was kissing _him. _

She wasn't just kissing him. She was all over him. She was letting him put his hands all over her body.

_That bitch. _

He watched Rose pull Jack onto the bed with her. He heard Jack tease her about her eagerness.

_That whore._

_She would let someone like_ him_ touch her—she would _like it _when he touched her—yet she was disgusted when _I _came anywhere near her. _

Cal had always rationalized Rose's lack of interest in him sexually as excessive modesty. He told himself she was just too feminine, too much a typical upper class lady, but now he saw that wasn't true.

_Common little slut. _

He was so lost in his rage he didn't notice when Jack sent Rose out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Hey everyone, sorry this chapter took a little longer than the others. There will be some "strong language" in this one, so if that bothers you just a heads up.

Jack didn't give himself time to think about what he was doing. He took hold of the doorknob and yanked the closet door open. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but Cal twisting Rose's dress in his hands was definitely not it.

Jack didn't let himself become overwhelmed by his shock. In one quick motion he grabbed Cal by the shirt collar, dragged him out of the closet and slammed him against the wall. He pressed his right forearm into Cal's neck.

Cal couldn't believe what was happening.

Neither could Jack, but he didn't let on.

"What in goddamned hell were you doing?" Jack asked. His voice was quiet yet held a menacing undertone.

"Well," Cal gasped, somehow managing to keep his usual arrogant tone, "I had to see if the rumors were true, and I must say that damned stupid woman babbling about you two almost got it right."

Jack added more weight to the arm pressing into Cal's neck. "'Almost got it right'—what are you talking about?"

"She did say a certain woman could pass for a lady, but we both know that's not true," he said smirking.

The last syllable had barely left Cal's mouth when Jack's fist collided with his face.

Jack was shaking. He'd never wanted to just _hurt_ anyone so badly in his life. The full force of the rage Cal's remark had unleashed in him was overwhelming.

_You can't let yourself be just as bad as he is, _he told himself. _You can't. _

Cal stared at Jack in disbelief. He was shocked by how much it hurt. It was the first time anyone had ever hit him.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he said.

Jack could feel his rage threatening to spill over. "Just because I don't feel the need to go around hitting people all the time doesn't mean I can't," he spat. "I'm not like you."

"You could never be like me," Cal sneered.

"No, I couldn't," Jack said shaking his head. "I'm better than you."

Cal laughed. "The only thing you're better at is getting my fiancée to let you fuck her—"

Jack's fist slammed into Cal's face again, knocking him to the floor. Bending over his prostrate body, Jack hit him again.

And again.

"Don't you ever talk about my wife like that again," he yelled between swings. "Don't you ever even talk about her at all! Don't you even think about her, do you hear me, goddamnit?"

He stopped hitting Cal and realized he was out of breath. His right hand was numb. The rest of his body was shaking.

Cal looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. Nothing in his life had ever prepared him for a moment like that. He wasn't sure what to do. Part of him said to get out of the situation, but another part—a part more accustomed to getting its way—refused to admit defeat.

"Just imagine if she'd seen that," he said. "I doubt you'd look much better than me."

Jack took a deep breath. "She's too smart to compare me with you."

"You think so?"

"I could never do anything like that to her," Jack said with conviction. "I _will never_ do anything like that to her. She knows that."

Cal slowly began to stand up. The full force of Jack's attack began to hit him as he tried to balance himself. His head was pounding, and he was almost certain he could feel his face swelling. His mouth tasted like blood.

"That's why you think you're better than me?" he asked.

"That's part of why I _know_ I'm better than you."

Cal just smirked and stepped past Jack. When he got to the door he turned around. "_You_ will _never_ even be _as good as me_ let alone _better_," he hissed. "As far as _she's_ concerned, well, maybe if she'd shown me what kind of whore she really is we would have gotten along better." Just as Jack was swinging at his head one last time he slipped out the door, slamming it behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

Jack just stood there frozen, staring at the door. He didn't know what else to do.

_What if he's right?_

Jack pushed the thought away. Cal was not right about anything. Cal was just trying to get to him.

_Well, he did. _

Silently Jack told himself to shut-up. He flexed his right hand. It hurt, but it wasn't swollen or bruised.

_I won't have to tell her,_ he thought. Except, he had to tell her, didn't he? How could he keep something like this from her? She had a right to know.

_You think that's a good idea?_

He was spared any further internal debating because at that moment the door opened, and Rose stepped inside.

Jack hadn't realized how much his feelings were written on his face until Rose looked at him. She silently set down the small box in her hand and slowly moved toward him.

"Jack, what is it?" she asked fearfully.

He didn't answer. He half-heartedly opened his mouth but quickly closed it again as Rose enveloped him in her arms. He buried his face in her curls, hugging her tightly.

"Jack, say something." Her voice trembled slightly.

"I—" he began. The words got caught in his throat.

"Are you crying?" she whispered.

"I think I might be," he said into her hair.

"Why? What the hell happened in the five minutes I was gone?"

Jack lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "I love you," he said slowly. "I sent you downstairs a few minutes ago because I thought I saw something and needed to know you were somewhere else while I found out what it was. I thought I saw someone in the closet, and it turned out I was right."

"Who?" Rose was scared.

"Cal."

"What?" she shrieked, stumbling backwards.

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"How did he get in here? How did he know where—how did he know we weren't dead?" Rose was getting hysterical.

Jack gently took her face in his hands. "I don't know, but he will never come that close to you again. Rose, I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears filled Rose's eyes. "What if he doesn't leave us alone?"

Jack pulled her into his arms. "Do you trust me?"

"You know it isn't you I don't trust."

"Then trust that no matter what he might try to do, I will be there to stop it."


	15. Chapter 15

Cal stomped into his room, slamming the door behind him. What had just happened was completely inexcusable. He allowed himself to lose the upper hand.

That would not happen again.

As his mind slowly began to return to normal he noticed blood on his shirt collar. His anger began to rise again. He took a deep breath to calm himself. No sense in losing control if he could help it.

Not yet at least.

He silently stripped down and stepped into the shower. It would have been easier to just change shirts and wash his face, but that wouldn't have been quite cleansing enough. He wanted to scrub away the humiliation.

Ruth sat stiffly at a small table in the hotel lounge. It was 8:15 and Cal still wasn't there. Had she been less preoccupied with her reputation she would have been complaining to anyone who would listen.

She sat there for another five minutes, and just as she was about to give up and leave Cal hurried in. He strode over to her table and sat down in the chair opposite her.

"I thought perhaps you weren't coming," she said evenly.

"I got held up by some unexpected difficulties."

"I see. What exactly did you want to speak to me about? I can't fathom what there could be for us to discuss since obviously you can't marry Rose now that she's dead."

Cal looked slightly taken aback at the mention of Rose's name, but he quickly recovered his composure.

"Well, you're right. I can't possibly marry her now. It's probably best if we part ways now."

Ruth nodded. She had been expecting this. There was no reason for her to be around anymore.

"Yes, that would be best," she said as she stood up from her chair. "I apologize for the, well, the inconvenience of everything." She paused. Was inconvenience the right word for it? Should she have just said, "I apologize for my daughter's stupidity"?

"I wish I could have done more to influence Rose's decisions," she finished.

As Ruth began to make her way toward the door, Cal said, "I said it was impossible for me to marry her now. I never said it was impossible because she was dead."

Ruth froze.

Jack and Rose lay on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Jack hadn't explained his encounter with Cal in detail—he felt there were some things it was up to him to protect her from and that was one of them—but just knowing that Cal was about was enough to completely unnerve Rose.

She hadn't been particularly afraid of him until that last night on the _Titanic, _what he had done left her terrified of him. She wasn't afraid for herself. She was afraid of what he might—and _could_—do to Jack, but she didn't want him to know. He'd just tell her not to worry about him—as though that were possible.

Rose's head rested on Jack's chest, just below his chin. "I can hear your heart beating," she whispered.

Jack smiled into her hair. He kissed the top of her head.

"It makes me feel safe," she continued. "I hear it, and I know you're still there."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "I'll never leave you. You don't have to be afraid of living without me."

"What if you didn't have a choice?"

"Rose, look at me."

She lifted her head and tilted it up so she was looking into his face.

"Nothing is going to come between us. Nothing is going to separate us," he said slowly. "I won't let that happen. I know you're scared, and I know it's because you think Cal might try something, but I want you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Rose's voice shook slightly, "I do trust you. I already told you it's him I don't trust."

"Don't worry about him. That's what he wants." He shifted his body into a sitting position, bringing Rose up with him. He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. "Rose, listen to me," he continued, "all he cares about is power. If we're afraid of him we're letting him control us. We can't do that. He doesn't deserve that. Please, just try not to worry about him. We're leaving the day after tomorrow, and we'll never see him again. All we have to do is avoid him until then, okay?"

"Okay," Rose's voice was steady. "I wish I wasn't afraid, Jack, I really do. I just don't know what I'd do without you. I'm not strong like you, I guess."

"Don't ever say that," he said forcefully. "Don't even think it. You're so strong, and maybe you can't see it right now but I can. A weak person couldn't have done what you did. You walked away from the only life you'd ever known—you almost died—to be with me. Our situation might be a little crazy, but it isn't one a weak person would enter into."

"It is kind of crazy. That's why I trust it," Rose replied, looking into his eyes.

Jack leaned forward and kissed her. His hands found their way from her face to the small of her back. Rose deepened the kiss. She twisted her hands in his soft blonde hair and pulled him closer.

He broke the kiss. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

Rose nodded quickly and reclaimed his mouth. After a few seconds he pulled away again.

"Are you sure? You were upset—"

"Jack," she said calmly interrupting him. "Don't think about anything but making love to me."

Before he could answer she lay back on the bed and pulled him onto her.

Jack did as he was told.


	16. Chapter 16

Ruth turned to face Cal. "What are you talking about?" she hissed. "What other reason could there be? She _is_ dead, after all." She was furious. How dare he mock the situation!

"Are you sure?" he asked calmly. He hadn't planned to tell Ruth about his discovery, but when he saw her start walking away, something told him to.

_She can be the gutter rat's whore in practice and by law—but she _won't _be happy. I'll see to that. _

"What do you mean am I sure? I saw her run back onto a sinking ship. If she'd survived, wouldn't she have found me?" Ruth asked shrilly.

Cal smiled to himself. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? But what if," he leaned forward, "she is alive, and she just hasn't chosen to tell you?"

Ruth's head spun. Rose was alive? Where? How did Cal know about it if she was? And why couldn't she still marry him if she was?

_Unless he won't have her now,_ she thought.

"What do you know?" Ruth was calm. No use in causing a scene.

"I know a lot of things," Cal said. "I know Rose is alive. I know where she is—"

"You do?" Ruth exclaimed. "How?"

Cal was annoyed at being interrupted. "You didn't let me finish. That's not all I know. I also know that your daughter, my lovely former fiancée, has already managed to get herself married to someone else. Any idea who that someone else might be?"

Ruth felt sick.


	17. Chapter 17

She needed him close. She needed to feel the weight of his body against hers, to wrap herself so tightly around him nothing could ever separate them.

He needed her to trust in his ability to protect her—and himself.

Ruth's stomach was tied up in knots. Her hands trembled slightly. _He can't mean it_, she told herself._ No,no, no. _

She struggled to keep her voice even, "Surely you don't mean…" She didn't want to finish the sentence. Saying it out loud was simply too much for her.

_She couldn't have. _

"Oh, but I do," Cal said standing up from his chair. "She didn't just run away with him. She made it official—and permanent." With that he turned and left the room.

Ruth's head spun with questions. How could she have done it? How could she have been so stupid? What was she thinking? What could he have possibly said to her? She didn't have an answer for any of them.

He _caused this,_ she thought bitterly.

Jack watched Rose sleep, her head cradled in the crook of his arm. There was a trace of a smile on her face. He wondered briefly what she was dreaming about.

He wondered if he would ever fall asleep.

For a time his mind had been free, unplagued by doubt or worry, but it hadn't lasted. _At least she's feeling better,_ he told himself. That was all that mattered.

Her voice echoed in his mind—"_It's not up to you to save me, Jack."_ He heard himself answer, "_You're right. Only you can do that,"_

Did that still apply? She had saved herself, hadn't she? Wasn't it up to him now?

_She won't let it be up to you._

Jack sighed. He knew it was true. Neither of them would ever let the other shoulder the burden of anything.

Carefully he slid his body away from Rose and climbed out of the bed. If he couldn't sleep he needed to do something to keep his mind occupied. Silently he collected a sheet of paper and a pencil. He sat down at the desk and began to draw.


	18. Chapter 18

It seemed to Jack that he finished his drawing much faster than usual. He laid it aside. He considered trying to sleep, but knew it would be impossible. He quickly got dressed, hoping a walk might help settle his mind. He gave Rose a gentle kiss before he crept out the door.

He walked the streets of New York for over an hour, just wandering aimlessly. Normally he noticed everything around him, but that night he noticed nothing. He only wanted to exhaust himself completely.

Jack tried to silence his internal voice, but it refused to be quiet.

_You'll just have to deal with this tomorrow if you don't now. What will you do if she wakes up still afraid? What will you do if you can't convince her everything will be okay?_

But the more chilling question was: _How can you be so sure it will be okay?_

Jack had never had to worry about another person before. For five years he had only had to answer to and be responsible for himself. His actions affected only him. If something happened to him there was no-one who would be affected by it. There would be no-one to care. No-one to remember he had even existed.

Those days were over, and now he had Rose to consider. She would be affected by every decision he made. If something happened to him she would be left alone in the world. He knew some men would run away from that, but he couldn't. He wasn't mourning the loss of his freedom because he knew he had found something better.

He had found someone to love. He had found someone he could share his adventures with—someone who gave his life a purpose, a meaning. He could never walk away from Rose. From the moment he had approached her when she was hanging of the railing of the _Titanic_ he'd known he didn't have the ability to walk away from her.

He stopped walking when he realized he had somehow circled back to the hotel. His mind wasn't quite settled yet, but he had a feeling it would be eventually. He couldn't say he knew how or why everything would be okay, but he felt it would be as long as he and Rose were together.

_We can get through anything. _

He quickly crossed the lobby and made his way to the elevator.

At the same time Ruth was slumped in her chair in the lounge. She had given up caring—at least temporarily—what other people might be saying or thinking about her. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Her life was over. It had been easier to bear when she believed Rose was dead. It's much more difficult to blame and possibly hate the dead for their actions, but now that she knew Rose was alive things were different.

Had the elevator come a split second sooner she wouldn't have seen him, but right at the exact moment before the doors opened and he stepped inside, Ruth turned her head slightly. There he was. Standing right there calm as could be.

Before she realized what she was doing, she screamed. It was more like a howl. The kind of sound a desperate animal might make.

It was late so there weren't many people still about, but the few who were immediately turned to see what had made such an awful sound, Jack included.

For a moment he didn't know who the woman staring at him, eyes blazing with hatred and nose wrinkled in disgust, could possibly be.

Then he recognized her.

He wanted to run. He wanted to dive into the open elevator and disappear from her sight completely, but he didn't. Disappearing wouldn't make her forget she had seen him. He was still deciding what to do when he realized Ruth was rapidly coming toward him.

"You!" she yelled as she neared him.

Jack wasn't sure what how to respond.

"You!" she yelled again, pointing at him this time. "You did all of this!"

By that point the people in the lobby as well as the lounge were beginning to gather around the unfolding scene.

Jack found his voice. "What?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she hissed. "Don't act like you don't. Things were perfect before you came along. She met _you _and—" Ruth faltered. She just couldn't say it.

"And what?" Jack snapped.

"And she completely lost sight of what's important! She believed whatever you said to her, and she threw away her entire life—for nothing!"

"I love her!" Jack shouted. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but it happened before he was aware of it.

Ruth's eyes widened.

"I love her, do you understand that?" he continued. "She chose to be with me because that's what she wanted. She agreed to marry me because that's what she wanted. A life with me is what she wants. She loves _me._"

Jack sighed heavily. The exhaustion he had been searching for had finally hit him.

"You _love_ her?" Ruth mocked. "You told her you _love_ her, and she just agreed to marry you? For no other reason?" Her voice rose. "How stupid can she be?"

"She is not stupid!" Jack cut Ruth off before she could say anything else. "And she isn't weak or selfish or anything else you'd care to call her. I don't give a damn _what_ you think or say about _me,_ but I won't let you or anyone else talk about her like that! If you knew the first thing about her, if you cared about her _at all _you'd know she made the right choice. You'd see how much happier she is with me."

"It would be as simple as that to someone like you," Ruth spat.

Jack shook his head. He didn't say anything else. He just turned and stepped onto the still waiting elevator while the attendant stared straight ahead, pretending he hadn't been watching the exchange.


	19. Chapter 19

Rose rolled over. She was trying to find Jack, but he wasn't there. Confused, she opened her eyes to see his side of the bed empty. She immediately sat up, afraid of what could have happened while she slept. Her heart racing she looked around the room for a sign of him, but there was none. His clothes were even gone.

_Where would he have gone?_

Taking a deep breath she willed herself to be calm. There was no need to panic. Jack was a grown man. He was quite capable of taking care of himself. Besides, what could have possibly happened that she would have slept through?

Feeling much calmer, she climbed out of bed. There would be no getting back to sleep again until he came back—no matter what she told herself. She gathered her clothes and began to dress herself. Just as she was finishing she noticed the sheet of paper on the desk. Stepping closer she saw it was a drawing of her sleeping.

"It's beautiful," she said aloud to herself. His gift amazed her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a sharp knock on the door.

Without thinking—it was like a reflex really—she crossed the room and opened the door.

And found herself face to face with Cal.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. It was as though she were frozen. Her mind raced. _What does he want?_

"Why, it's good to see you too," he said. His pleasant tone held a hint of venom.

"What are you doing here?" she asked calmly. She was determined to not let him see her fear.

"Oh, I just came to tell you about a very interesting conversation I had with your mother." Cal glanced behind her and into the room. His eyes took in the unmade bed and the drawing on the desk. Bringing his gaze back to Rose he noticed her mussed hair.

"Looks like you've had plenty to do this evening," he said icily.

Rose glared at him.

"Tell me, where is that lucky _husband_ of yours?"

She didn't answer.

Cal took a step toward her, forcing her to take a step back. "Won't tell or don't know?"

"Why would I tell you anything?" Rose asked angrily.

"I could make you," he said, taking another step forward.


	20. Chapter 20

Rose didn't know what to do. She took another step back as Cal moved closer. He was just past the doorway. She didn't know how to get him out. She was no match for him physically.

_You are not scared_, she told herself harshly. _You can deal with this. You have to deal with this._

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, mustering up all the authority she could.

Cal smirked. "Whatever I want," he said, pushing the door closed.

Rose held onto her resolve. "I don't know what that means, and I don't care. Get out!"

"Make me." He took another step toward her. "Or can't you?"

Rose didn't answer.

"There's not a lot you can do by yourself, is there?" he taunted, grabbing her wrists and pulling her to him. "He's not here to save you."

Rose struggled to free her arms, but Cal's grip was like iron. She twisted her body in an attempt to somehow throw him off balance. It didn't work.

He laughed. He released her wrists and took hold of her shoulders.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" he spat. "Did you really think you could just get away with humiliating me?" His voice rose into a yell. "Did both of you really think you could just make a fool out of me and walk away?"

Rose was terrified. She didn't know what he might do, or what she could do to stop it. She hoped he would get caught up in his rant and loosen his grip—let his attention slide away from her for just a moment—giving her the chance she needed. She couldn't win against him in a fight, but she might be able to outrun him.

_I wish Jack were here._

Cal shook her. "Are you listening to me?"

"How could I not be? You're yelling like a spoiled child!" she snapped. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Cal's face twisted with rage. Before Rose had a chance to realize what was coming he had already hit her. His fist slammed into her face with a sickening _thwomp. _Pain exploded in Rose's head. She tried desperately to hold back the urge to cry.

"I'll teach you to talk to me like that," he growled.

"I forgot you had a problem with honesty," Rose said quietly, bracing herself for the blow she knew was coming.

But it didn't come.

She winced as Cal dug his fingers into her shoulders. "You'd like me to hit you again, wouldn't you?" he asked.

Rose was confused, but she kept quiet.

"Well, I'm not going to."

For a split second she felt a glimmer of hope, but it vanished as she felt him push her backwards.

_No!_ her mind screamed. She couldn't let this happen. She kicked him in the chest, knocking him back, but he recovered almost instantly.

"Or maybe I will," he said through clenched teeth.


	21. Chapter 21

Two minutes later Jack walked in the door to see Cal bent over Rose, his knee between her thighs. Her dress hung off one shoulder. Cal's hand was in the air, preparing to hit her.

Something in Jack snapped.

He howled with rage and crossed the room in two steps. Before Cal had a chance to react, Jack's hands were around his throat. He lifted Cal into the air, tightening his grip. Cal's hands flailed, trying desperately to hit Jack.

Jack watched him struggle for a moment before throwing him to the ground. Cal landed in a gasping heap.

Jack was shaking. "You—" he struggled to form words. He bent down, grabbing Cal by the throat again. "What more do I have to do to make it clear to you to _leave her alone_?"

Cal tried to speak, but Jack's hands around his throat made it impossible for him to produce anything but inarticulate gurgling sounds.

"No," Jack said in a quiet yet threatening tone. "You don't get to talk anymore. All you get to do is walk away this one time. That's it. You get one chance to disappear forever. If you ever look at her, mention her name out loud, come near either of us _at all_ and I _will_ make sure you never have the chance to do it again. Do you understand that?" He began to yell. "_I will kill you_, got that? And I don't fucking care about who you are or what kind of power you might have. You do not scare me, and do you want to know why? Because you're a goddamned coward. You come after her when you should be coming after me, and when you do come after me you hide behind your money. You create diversions to get rid of me rather than just fight me yourself, but that's over. You will never get anywhere near close to her again while I'm around, and don't you even _think_ of coming after her again when she's alone."

Jack exhaled heavily. He let go of Cal.

"_Go_," he said.

Cal quickly scrambled to his feet. His mouth curled in a sneer he silently stalked out of the room.

Jack's head dropped into his hands. It was almost too much for him. The sound of quiet crying snapped him back to reality.

Rose was hugging herself, her face pressed against her knees. She had drawn them up against her chest.

Jack's heart broke.

"Rose," he said softly, taking a step toward her.

She raised her head slightly. "Jack." Her voice shook.

He quickly moved to her, gathering her huddled body into his arms. She let go of her knees and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He could feel her tears through his shirt.

It was something he never wanted to feel again.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding back tears himself. "I'm so sorry, Rose. I failed you." He held her tighter. "I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and I failed." He quietly began to cry. "I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

"It's not your fault," Rose whispered.

"What?"

"This wasn't your fault, Jack." She raised her head and looked into his face. "I wish you'd been here to stop it, but you weren't." She paused. "I know how badly you want to protect me, but maybe there are some things you just can't protect me from—and maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. The only way you could keep every bad thing away from me would be if you were with me every second, but you can't be. I just have to try to deal with some things on my own, and this was just not a situation I could deal with that well by myself. I needed you, but you couldn't have known that."

Jack stared at her intently, taking in everything she'd said. "You're so strong," he said finally.

Rose snorted bitterly. "I think you're mistaking me for someone who wasn't recently beaten and quite possibly almost raped."

Jack winced. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't walked in when he did.

"No, I'm talking about _you_," he said. "I don't know how you do it, but I'm glad you do."

"You make me feel stronger than I ever thought was possible," Rose said, laying her head against his chest. "I don't think I could have fought him before I knew you."

"You fought him?"

"I tried, but it really only made things worse."

Jack kissed her hair. "I will never let him get near you again."

"After what you did I doubt he'll want to get near me again."

"Did that—when I—" he struggled to find the right words. "You know I would never hurt you, right?"

Rose nodded. "I know."

"I just don't want you to ever think I could ever do anything like that to you."

"I'm not worried about that," Rose reassured him.

They didn't say much after that. Eventually they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, hoping the next day would be better.


	22. Chapter 22

AN: This chapter is a bit fluffy, but I felt they deserved a little fluffiness after the last few chapters.

Jack and Rose didn't leave their room at all the next day. They didn't ever discuss why they weren't leaving; they didn't need to. There was an unspoken agreement between them that it was the best thing to do. They spent the day just enjoying being together.

"What made you decide you wanted to be an artist?" Rose asked. She was lounging on the couch in their sitting room. Jack was concentrating on sharpening a pencil so it was exactly the way he wanted.

"I don't really know," he said, never taking his eyes off his task. "I don't remember ever consciously deciding that was what I wanted to be. It's more like that's what I always was in some way. Drawing is just something I've always done."

"I wish I had something like that," Rose said wistfully.

Jack's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I wish I had something that I did. I wish there was something I was good at—some one gift. Like what you have."

"I thought my gift was seeing people?"

"It is. That's why you're such a good artist."

Jack smiled. Rose's words made him feel warm inside. She believed in him so much, he wanted to succeed for her, but he wanted her to believe in herself too.

"You must be good at something," he said.

Rose shook her head. "I don't think I really am. I've never had anything I was interested in doing."

"What would you like to do?" Jack asked eager to hear her answer.

"I—"Rose stopped. "I don't know," she finished lamely.

"You'll figure it out," Jack said reassuringly. "Eventually it will come to you."

"I hope you're right."

"Trust me."

"You ask me to trust you about an awful lot, do you realize that?" Rose asked half-seriously.

"An awful of things involves trust," Jack answered.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?" Jack was slightly taken aback.

"Do you trust me?" she asked again.

"Why would you ask that?"

"You've asked me so many times, but I've never asked you."

"But I told you I trust you, remember?" Jack pointed out. "And then I let you swing an ax at my hands."

"I didn't miss."

"No, you didn't."

And for a moment they just gazed at each other, both certain they could somehow overcome anything as long as they were together.


	23. Chapter 23

Rose stood in front of the bathroom mirror, silently staring at herself. She didn't know how long she had been there when Jack came up behind her.

"What're you doing?" he asked quietly.

"I was just…looking," she answered.

"What do you see?"

"I see a woman."

"Very good." Jack smiled. "I'd be concerned if you saw something else."

Rose's reflection returned his smile. "I see more than that, though. I guess the best way to put it is…I think I'm starting to see _me._"

Her reflection frowned.

"That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

Jack shook his head. "No, it does—and it's a good thing."

He put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "_I_ see you, and if you can even see a fraction of what I see…" He let the sentence dangle, unsure of how to finish it.

He gazed into the mirror, enjoying the sight of their two reflections together. He tried to avoid looking at the large, black bruise on the left side of her face. It didn't make her any less beautiful, but it was a sharp reminder of his failure. Despite what she'd said, he still couldn't help but blame himself.

Rose noticed his eyes refused to travel to that part of her face.

"Why are you doing that?"

"What?"

"You won't look at the left side of my face. Why not? Does it bother you? Do…do you think it makes me less attractive?" she asked anxiously.

"No!" Jack exclaimed. "No, that's not it. I just don't want to be reminded of you being hurt." He softly kissed her cheek. "You will always be beautiful to me."

Rose took his hand and raised it up to her face. Jack watched, unsure of what she was planning to do. She gently placed his fingertips on the bruised part of her face.

"I know you don't want to think about it, but we can't ignore it. We can't let it control us, but we can't ignore it. Ignoring the bad things doesn't make them go away," she said. She let go of his hand.

He didn't lower it. Instead he covered the bruise with his palm.

"I'm not trying to hide it," he said. "I just want to be able to feel it for you."

"No-one can do that," Rose said sadly. "I have to feel it for myself. I'm not a porcelain doll…and I never was."

She turned her head and met Jack's eyes with her own. "But you saw that, didn't you?"

"I saw it."

She smiled and tilted her head up slightly, kissing him.


	24. Chapter 24

The next morning Rose hopped out of bed at dawn.

"Jack, wake up!" she exclaimed, shaking him. "We're leaving today!"

Jack groaned. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. "We're not leaving until this afternoon," he said, his voice muffled.

"I know, but I'm just so excited." Rose did a short dance around the room. "We're really going…somewhere. We're going to finally begin doing everything we want to."

She was so caught up in her musings she didn't notice when Jack started watching her.

"I guess it is exciting," he said. Her enthusiasm was contagious, no matter how much he would have liked to remain asleep.

"Just think of it Jack," she said, flopping down on the bed beside him. "We'll be free."

He smiled and gently touched her lips with his thumb. "Yes, we will be."

Rose kissed his thumb. He gave her a meaningful look. She shook her head.

"I need a shower," she said, climbing back off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

Left alone, Jack lay back and closed his eyes. He intended, of course, to stay awake but was fast asleep within seconds.

The next thing he was aware of was a cool sensation on his ear. Gradually, he realized what he felt was Rose lightly kissing his ear. Without warning he rolled over and pulled her onto him.

Rose laughed and tried to slide away, but he held her firmly.

"Is that any way to wake a person up?" he asked, feigning seriousness.

"Well, it must be," Rose teased. "I could have been worse, though."

"Oh really?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I could have done this." Rose kissed his throat.

"I don't know how I could have survived that," Jack said.

"It would have been even worse if I'd done this." She kissed his lips. Before she could pull away, Jack lightly pressed his hand against her hair, silently telling her to keep going.

"Jack," Rose whispered, barely pulling her mouth away from his, "We don't have time-"

She was too distracted by Jack's hand slowly traveling up her thigh to finish her sentence.

"What were you saying?" he asked, eyes wide with innocence.

"I—we" Rose stammered. She had temporarily lost the ability to express coherent thoughts.

"Yes?" The ignorance in his tone and the location of his hand did not match up.

Rose gave him what could be termed a loving glare. "You aren't playing fair," she said. "So neither will I."

Jack wondered for a split second what she meant, but then he felt her fingertips graze his thigh.

Sighing he said, "You want to see unfair, huh?"


	25. Chapter 25

AN: WOW! Thanks guys for reviewing. I'm really enjoying writing this story. And ML, I'm glad you thought the last chapter was hot. I really see Jack and Rose as a very sexual, very physical kind of always touching kind of couple, and I want my story to reflect that.

As it turned out they had more time than Rose thought, but less time than either of them chose to notice. So they found themselves running, hand in hand through the streets of New York, hoping they didn't miss their train.

Jack carried the only bag they had. Everything they owned except the clothes they were wearing—which were their wedding clothes—was inside it. It held the clothes they'd worn the last night on the _Titanic_, a handful of pencils, some paper, the drawing of Rose, and Cal's coat that Jack had added when Rose wasn't looking. He hoped she had forgotten about it. He didn't want to explain what he'd found yet nor was he eager for anything to remind her of Cal.

They made it to the train station, out of breath, but miraculously with ten minutes to spare.

"Wow," Rose said. "I never realized how fast I could run before I met you."

"I just bring out the best in you," Jack replied.

They quickly found their platform and were preparing to board the train when Jack felt a pair of eyes boring into his back. He turned around and saw Ruth staring at him from another platform nearby.

"What is it?" Rose asked, turning to see what he was looking at. "Oh," she gasped when her eyes landed on Ruth.

Ruth's expression was a mixture of shock and hatred. She came toward them, her mouth twisted in disgust.

"_How _could you do that?" she shrieked as she neared them.

Rose was taken aback by her mother's outburst. She had never seen anything like it before. "What?" she asked, dumbfounded and unable to think of anything else to say.

"Don't act like you don't know!" Ruth was almost hysterical.

Rose took a step back in an attempt to put some distance between herself and her mother. Jack squeezed her hand, reminding her he was there. His silent support calmed her nerves, allowing her to find the strength she needed.

"Surely, mother, you don't mean how could I marry Jack," Rose said calmly.

Ruth's eyes looked dangerously close to popping out of their sockets. "That's exactly what I mean! How could you let him talk you into throwing your life away?"

"Seeing as I'm alive it looks as though I still have a life," Rose snapped. "And he didn't talk me into doing anything. Everything I've done since I met him was my choice."

"Did you ever stop to think about your future?" Ruth wailed.

"I did. I thought about what it would be like to fall asleep every night in the arms of a man I truly love."

Jack smiled at her. She flashed him a quick smile in return.

"_That's_ what you thought about?" Ruth was disgusted. "You didn't think about what you were trading for this—this—grand love of yours? You would have been secure for the rest of your life! You would have never wanted for anything!"

"Except happiness."

Ruth just stared at her.

"You don't get it," Rose said. "I don't care about the money, the security or anything else that goes along with it. I would rather be completely penniless with Jack—who could never hurt me—than have all the riches in the world with Cal—whom I have to thank for _this_." She pointed at the bruise on her face.

"You only have yourself to thank for anything he may have done to you," Ruth said.

Jack's body tensed. An outraged "How-" was all he could get out before Rose shushed him.

"No, Jack. There's a train we need to be on right now." She looked at Ruth. "Good-bye mother, for the last time."

And with that she and Jack turned and boarded their train, leaving Ruth standing on the platform, stunned beyond comprehension.


	26. Chapter 26

AN: So, after I finished this chapter I realized the story could go one of two ways. I already have a good idea of where I want things to go, but I could get there either by A) Taking the long road or B)Skimming over a few weeks/months and diving right in--and no, it isn't a child I want to throw into the mix. So, my question is this: What do you, the readers, prefer?

Jack and Rose said little to each other for the first hour after the train left New York. Rose was staring into the space in front of her, concentrating on something only she could see. Occasionally she would murmur something to herself or sigh.

Jack wasn't bothered by her silence. He suspected she was processing the encounter with her mother and would talk when she was ready. He occupied himself by sketching the people around him.

"How could she say that?" Rose exclaimed suddenly.

Several people turned to look at her, curious about the unexpected outburst. Jack shifted his attention from his drawing, ready to hear whatever else she needed to say.

"Seriously," Rose said, looking at him. "I don't understand. I've been going over it and over it in my mind this whole time and it just—it just _baffles_ me." Her body was tense and so was her tone.

Jack didn't answer right away. "I want to believe that she wanted what she thought was best for you," he said carefully. "I don't think her idea of what was best was right," he quickly added, "because it wasn't at all. It seems like she's angry because she believes you gave up something that to her is absolutely essential. She doesn't understand how you could do that, and maybe she's a little jealous."

Rose stared at him for a moment. "It all makes so much more sense when you say it," she said, letting out a short, frustrated laugh.

"It's a complicated situation," Jack said gently.

"I suppose it is." Rose gave him a small smile. "I just wish it was a little less so. I don't want anything about either of us to change, but I want….other people to change, maybe."

Jack took Rose's hand.

"I don't think there's any way to make that happen," he said sadly. "If a person wants to change they can, but we can't make them."

"I know. I've never had a good relationship with my mother—not having her in my life doesn't bother me as much as I guess it should—but I can't get over what she said about my deserving the things Cal did." She shook her head and looked down into her lap. "I just keep coming back to that."

Jack lifted her face up. "Don't you start believing that," he said forcefully. "Don't you ever believe that, not even for a second. I don't know if she really thinks it's true, but it doesn't matter, okay?" He brushed the curls back from her face. "I'm willing to say your mother had her reasons for pushing you to marry him, and I'm willing to say she thought she was doing the right thing. I can see why, from her perspective, I am the worst person you could have married, but she is _wrong_ about whose fault it was that Cal hurt you. No-one should be blamed for that except him. No-one who cared about you at all could have done the things he did."

When Jack stopped to breathe he noticed tears glistening in Rose's eyes.

"I love you, Jack," she said quietly.

Jack engulfed her in a tight hug. "I love you too."

"And we don't ever have to see or think about any of them ever again," he added, releasing her. "It's you and me and the horizon now."


	27. Chapter 27

AN: mayakaur: thanks for the vote!

ML: Wow, thanks for the comment about the depth. I think I've just spent far too much time analyzing them, haha. And also, thanks for your vote!

I decided it would be best to take the middle road. I'm going to skim over a few things here and there, but there will still be plenty of stuff going on. I just didn't want to start the next chapter with "6 months later…" and everyone be like, "WTF?!"

O, and the town they go to is made up as far as I know.

The rest of that day and the following one were uneventful. Rose did a lot of napping, and Jack enjoyed his usual round of people watching. There really wasn't much else they could do, and just when the monotony was starting to get to both of them, the conductor announced they were about to reach their destination.

A few minutes later the train pulled into the station in Smithfield, Virginia.

Rose breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It would be nice to walk around outside again. She stretched her arms out above her head and prepared to get off the train at the first possible chance. Beside her Jack was making sure everything was still in their bag.

"What do we have that anyone would steal?" Rose joked.

Jack's eyes flickered for a moment, as though her comment had triggered something. "Nothing," he replied. "I just—you know, felt like checking."

"Oh, okay," Rose said, slightly confused. He was behaving oddly, but she couldn't figure out why. _Does he think I'm upset about our lack of things?_

She didn't have time to ponder the matter any further; her mind was completely occupied by their descent from the train and into the crowded, unfamiliar train station.

Rose was overwhelmed by just how many people were there. Traveling had always been such a simple affair in the past. Everyone was taken care of separately, and she had never had to navigate her way through a thick crowd before.

Jack noticed her eyes were taking in everything around them. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. It's just all so—new."

"You'll get used to it," he said with a smile. He held out his hand, and she took it, grateful to have something to hold onto.

After they left the station they just wandered around for awhile, not entirely sure what to do next.

"So, what would you be doing right now if I wasn't here?" Rose asked.

"Honestly, I'd probably be doing something similar to this."

"Really?" Rose hid her disappointment that he hadn't answered with something more exciting.

"Yeah. I'd just be walking around, exploring, kind of getting a feel for wherever it is I am. You can see a lot doing that."

"You can?" Rose was intrigued.

"Sure. Look over there." He pointed at a couple standing near the corner across the street from them.

"What about them?"

"They're not supposed to be together. That's some kind of affair."

"How can you tell?" Rose asked, amazed.

"Look at their body language. See how she keeps turning her head and checking as though she expects someone to come running up at any moment?"

Rose nodded.

"And see how he's kind of holding himself away from her, like he's afraid to touch her?"

"I see it," she said.

"That's basically how you can tell."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I don't think I would have noticed all that."

"It's okay," Jack said. "I might be the only one crazy enough to think watching strange people is fun."

"You're really good at it."

"You think so?"

"I do."

Jack squeezed her hand. He hadn't ever thought about the way he noticed things about people before. He just knew he had always done it, but then Rose came along and told him it was a gift. It made him feel good for some reason to hear her say that.

"Would you be doing anything else?" she asked.

Jack thought for a second. "Well, if I didn't have anything else to do I might go find someplace to just sit and draw whatever's going on around me, but you'd probably not enjoy that."

"No, I would!" Rose said excitedly.

"Would you really?"

"Oh yes."

"Let's do it then," Jack said happily.

An hour later they were settled under a large tree in the middle of the city's park. They could see children playing—and their nurses and/or mothers watching from a row of benches—people by themselves stretched out in the grass reading and couples strolling by.

Rose enjoyed just being able to relax and observe others. She had nowhere to be and nothing to do. She could just lean against the tree trunk and feel at ease.

Beside her Jack was busy sketching. He had settled on a couple not far from them—a well-dressed dark haired man and blonde woman. They were sitting on a bench next to a fountain. They seemed to be lost in each other. They reminded him of Rose and himself.

Just as he was finishing up the drawing a shadow fell across the paper. Jack looked up and into the face of the man from the couple he was drawing.

The man smiled. "Hi," he said. "I noticed you were drawing us."

"Um, yeah, I was," Jack said. He was a bit nervous, but he didn't let it show.

"Well, I just wanted to know if we could see it."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, sure." Jack hastily handed the paper to the man, who studied it intently.

"This is really impressive," he said finally.

"Thanks," Jack said appreciatively. "It's a compulsion."

"Well, keep it up whatever it is. Would you be willing to let me buy this?"

"Yeah, if you want." Jack was startled by the man's question.

"I do. Would..uh," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills, "Would $20 be enough?"

Jack's head spun. "That would be…great," he said stammered.

"Okay."

And just like that the strange man handed Jack a crisp $20 bill, took the drawing, and left. Jack leaned back against the tree and stared at the money in his hand. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Jack that was..amazing."

He looked over at Rose. She was staring at him, awestruck.

"I guess it was," he said slowly.

Rose laid her head on his shoulder. "I said you were gifted."

Jack felt a rush of pure happiness engulf him. He had confirmed Rose's belief in him.

"You were right," he said, putting his arm around her. "So, why don't we take this, find somewhere to stay and something to eat—and then we can find some fresh clothes."

"We don't have to do all of that," Rose said. "We have clothes."

"We have _Titanic_ disaster clothes and wedding clothes. I'm talking about something that doesn't hold an ocean's worth of memories."

"Well, if you put it that way…"

Jack kissed her hair. "Then you have to go along with me."


	28. Chapter 28

AN: This one might be a little short. It's also got some parts that might be M, just fair warning. The next one should have more "action."

"Jack, no," Rose protested. She stood in front of a full-length mirror, staring at her reflection in the dress Jack had insisted she try. It was a light yellow that set off her flaming hair perfectly. It was a simple yet beautiful, but Rose was having none of it.

"Why not?" Jack stepped directly behind her. "See how good we look together?" he said, pointing at their two reflections.

Rose sighed. "I see it," she admitted unhappily.

"Then why not this one?"

"Because it's—it's too much. I couldn't—"

"You can."

"Jack, I can't. We can't. We shouldn't." Rose was becoming slightly incoherent.

Jack laid his hands lightly on her arms. "Don't worry about it."

"But—"

"Don't."

"You don't think you have to give me things, do you?" Rose asked anxiously.

"I don't think that," Jack said. "I've never thought that, but I do _want_ to give you things."

"You do?"

"I do—and I will."

"But I don't need—"

"I know that, but I want us to have the best life possible. I know money isn't the key to happiness, which is good because we'll probably never really have that much—" he smiled, a small just slightly bitter smile, "but I want us to use what we do have. And right now I want us to use it for this. Will you let us do that?"

Rose knew she couldn't argue with him. "Okay."

Jack's face broke into a grin. He gave her a quick hug.

"But," she added as he was letting go, "we have to dress you now."

Once they were finally finished buying clothes they went in search of a place to stay. They found a small hotel room for $1 a week but decided to only take it for two nights—that night and the next one.

The sun was setting as they entered their room. Jack deposited their bag and purchases on a table by the door. Rose fell backwards onto the bed, exhausted. She couldn't remember when she had ever walked so much in her life.

"Come here," she commanded.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Is that an order?"

"That's a direct order."

"Can't argue with that."

He dropped down beside her. She rolled over onto her side, facing him. He reached out and lightly stroked her face.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

"You."

"What about me?"

"I was thinking about how you looked today when I watched you drawing."

"How did I look?"

"I don't exactly know how to describe it," she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "There's this intense look you get—it's like nothing else exists. It's different from how you look at other times."

"I look bad at other times, huh?" Jack joked.

"Oh no," Rose said seriously. "You always look…" She couldn't find the word she wanted.

"Yes?" he teasingly pressed her to continue. "You were telling me something about how great I look?"

Rose didn't answer. Without warning she threw herself onto him, pushing him flat on his back, straddling him.

"I believe you were teasing me when I was trying to say something nice about you," she said haughtily.

"Might have been. I really don't remember now," Jack said. "I'm feeling a bit distracted."

Rose slowly undid the button on his pants. "Only a bit?"

"A lot, actually."

"That's what I want to hear."

Rose reached around and began unbuttoning her dress. Jack's eyes were glued to her as she slid out of the top half. She had stopped wearing corsets completely, and this made for a more interesting sight.

Jack slid his hands up her stomach, but she stopped him just as he was about to reach her breasts.

"No," she said, taking hold of his wrists. "You don't get to do that yet."


	29. Chapter 29

AN: Okay, so I lied. Nothing in this chapter furthers the plot of the story at all. It is, however, very M. I'm not sure why, but when I started writing…well, I went to this place.

"What do I get to do?" Jack asked as Rose set his hands down by his sides.

"You'll see."

She stood up and shrugged out of the rest of her dress. Jack's eyes followed her every movement. He wanted to touch her so badly.

She reclaimed her former position. Jack's hands moved toward her legs.

"Remember what I told you," she said, taking hold of his wrists again. She leaned forward and kissed him. He raised his head and tried to deepen the kiss, but the further he went forward the further she pulled back.

She giggled. "You want me quite badly, don't you?"

"Is _that_ what it looks like?" he asked.

"That's exactly what it looks like." She kissed him again, still holding his wrists. He tried to move his hands toward her anyway, hoping she would give in, but she didn't.

"Rose." He sighed.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Jack."

He watched her intently, studying her face for any signs of her intentions. He found none. He watched as she took raised his hands to her lips and kissed them. He shivered. Her lips were cold against his hot skin.

"I love your hands," she whispered, releasing them.

Groaning, he grabbed her and flipped their positions. She moaned as his mouth traveled down her neck and to her throat. His hands frenziedly caressed her body.

She felt his erection against her thigh. She slid a hand between their bodies and stroked him through his pants.

Jack moaned. "Rose." He pressed himself into her hand.

"You're much too overdressed," she whispered.


	30. Chapter 30

_Two Weeks Later_

Cal sat in his study, a post-dinner brandy in his hand. He was looking forward to relaxing after a long day. His life had finally begun to settle back into its usual routine, and he was quite pleased about it. The rest of the night stretched ahead of him like a blank canvas, but he didn't actually plan to do anything except, well, sit around.

And then his father walked in.

"Caledon, my boy," he said, sitting down in the chair opposite Cal.

Cal's expression remained tranquil, exposing none of his displeasure about his father's arrival.

"Hello, father," he said pleasantly.

"I've been meaning to speak to you about something," Nathan said, leaning back into the chair. He took a sip of his drink.

Cal tensed. He hated when his father did this.

"What about?"

"Well, I was waiting until that unpleasantness was behind us a bit, but I feel it's time I asked-"

_O dear God, what can he want?_

"What exactly happened to that necklace?"

Cal suddenly became very cold as the realization that he had completely forgotten about the necklace dawned on him.

"I don't know," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Nathan demanded. "How could you just _not know_ what happened to something that cost a small fortune?"

Cal was at a loss for words. "I gave it to _her_," he said. "I don't know what she did with it."

"And she's dead now, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Such a shame," Nathan said, getting up to leave. He shot Cal a warning look. "Be more careful next time," he commanded. He was talking, of course, about the loss of the diamond.

After his father was gone, Cal allowed himself to begin panicking. Rose wasn't dead. She was out there somewhere, and she had that diamond.

He had to find it.


	31. Chapter 31

Jack rolled onto his side, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't quite awake yet, but he had passed the point of being able to fall easily back into sleep. Beside him Rose slept soundly, undisturbed by his movement. He watched her for a moment as the events of the past few weeks suddenly began running through his mind.

They'd left Smithfield on the morning of what would have been their third day there, and somehow they'd ended up in a small town in South Carolina. They may as well have been throwing darts at a map for all the planning their travels involved. Each day they explored somewhere new.

Jack was noticing the way their life was changing Rose, and he liked it. He could see her growing into herself and becoming comfortable with the world. She had always been confident and had carried herself with a dignity and grace, but it had changed a little. He couldn't exactly say how, but it had.

Almost as if she knew he was thinking about her, Rose began to stir. "What are you doing," she asked, opening her eyes.

"Just watching the most beautiful woman in the world sleep," he said.

"Oh really, when did she get here?"

"I'm not dignifying that with a response," Jack grinned.

"Fine." Rose sat up. "What are we doing today?"

"What do you want to do?"

Rose thought for a moment. "Let's just wander around and see where we end up."

"Okay."

While they were doing that, Cal was on the verge of pulling his own hair out. It had been four days since the talk with his father and he had yet to find Jack and Rose. He knew when and how they left New York. He knew where they had gone, but beyond that he knew nothing. It was as though they had dropped off the Earth. He was, however, determined to find them. They had to be _somewhere_, and there had to be _someone_ who had seen them.

The rest of Jack and Rose's day was pleasantly uneventful. They rambled for miles, stopping occasionally to rest or for Jack to sketch something that grabbed his attention. He had a new portfolio that he carried with him wherever they went, and in only the few short weeks since they'd set out he'd nearly filled it.

It was during one of their breaks that Rose first mentioned it. They were sitting in a large doorway. Jack was sketching a scene going on in front of them.

"You know what I think would be interesting?" she asked.

"What?" Jack didn't look up.

"To see how a painting of yours would look."

Jack looked at her. "Really?"

"Yes."

He was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "I've thought about it, but I've never tried it."

"You should try it," Rose said encouragingly.

Jack smiled. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Jack woke up early the next morning and slipped out of their room. They planned to leave later that day so he had to hurry. Without counting Cal's money they had a little under $30. He'd been selling drawings here and there which had helped cushion their financial situation. Even so, he wasn't going to let his project jeopardize their tiny bit of security. He knew Cal's money was there—more than enough to take care of them for how long he didn't know, except that it wouldn't be a short time—but he didn't want to use it unless he absolutely had to.

As it turned out he needn't have worried. He found everything he needed for far less than he had anticipated.

He crept back into their room just as Rose was waking up.

"Where did you go?" she asked, stretching her arms above her head.

"I decided to try something," he said. "And I want you to help me with it."

"What?" Rose's eyes lit up with curiosity.

Jack help up a small paintbrush. "You'll see."


	32. Chapter 32

AN: Since Savannah is a real place, I'm not going to go into very much detail about it so as to avoid getting something wrong. I know what it's like there _now_, but I don't necessarily know what it was like there _then._

As the weeks passed they traveled further south. Neither of them mentioned it, but there was an unspoken agreement between them to stay where it was warm. Eventually they found themselves in Savannah, Georgia.

It was the beginning of June, and almost without realizing it they decided to stay there for the rest of the summer. Neither of them said it, but they both needed a rest from the constant moving about. Even when he had been alone Jack would stay somewhere for a few weeks from time to time. It was necessary to stay sane and to make sure the money didn't run out.

They somehow managed to find a cheap yet pleasant two room apartment. It was part of a much larger house that had once been quite grand but had gone down in the world over time. Their rooms were accessible both through a door that led down a set of stairs and into the rest of the house as well as through a door on the other side that opened onto set of stairs that led to the street. They had no kitchen—for which Rose was silently grateful as she had no real idea what she would have done in one—so they ate meals with the rest of the house's occupants.

Jack had been itching to do another painting since the first one he had done of Rose, so it wasn't long before stacks of them were leaning against the walls of their front room.

"I don't know how you do it," Rose said, surveying the room in wonder.

"Well, it isn't too difficult," Jack replied. "First you take the brush and then you-"

"I know that!" Rose laughed, pushing him playfully.

"Hey, you said it."

"What I meant was, I don't know how you can create _so many_."

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder about that too."

"You do?"

"I wonder if it won't stop one day," Jack said pensively, "if maybe there's only so much I can create and I'm about to use it up."

"I doubt that will happen."

Jack gave her a half-smile. "Thanks for the confidence."

"Always."

"There really are too many in here," he said, taking on a brisk tone.

"Where else is there to put them?"

"I've been thinking about that, actually. There's no reason for us to keep them all, and we have to get money somehow."

"You want to sell them?"

Jack shrugged. "I want to try."

Secretly he was afraid to, but he didn't see any other option. He was afraid of what might happen if it turned out he really didn't have any talent. Looking at how Rose's eyes brightened at the prospect of someone else wanting something he'd created, he knew he couldn't tell her that. She believed in him completely, and he wanted desperately to live up to all the things she believed about him.


	33. Chapter 33

Every day Jack and Rose would claim a spot on the city's square. He would arrange about five of his paintings in a row in front of them, and each day he worked on a new one while she devoured a new book.

At first nothing happened, but after they had been at it for a few days people started noticing—and buying.

Jack couldn't quite believe how many people were interested in his work. He stared in shock at people who handed him money in exchange for one of his paintings. Rose just looked on silently, her belief in his gift confirmed once again.

Things went on like that for about a month until one day a dark haired man approached them. Jack recognized him immediately, but he wasn't sure from where until the man introduced himself.

"Hello," he said, extending his hand. "My name is Maxwell St. James. I believe I purchased a sketch from you a few months ago. You may not remember, it was in a little town in Virginia, I believe."

"I remember," Jack said incredulously.

Maxwell smiled. "Well, I don't mean to disturb you, but I'd been hearing some interesting things about a new artist in town. Your name sounded familiar and when I checked the drawing I knew why."

Jack nodded, dumbfounded. "So did you come all the way here just to—"

"Oh no, I live here. When we first met my wife and I were on our honeymoon. I'm a gallery owner, actually."

Jack couldn't believe his ears. Behind him Rose gasped.

Things began to move very quickly after that.


	34. Chapter 34

As it turned out Maxwell was more than a mere gallery owner. He owned several, in fact, and he held a rather influential position in the American art world.

He also believed quite strongly in Jack's talent.

The following week he began showing Jack's work. At first nothing happened, but little by little people began to take notice. His work started becoming popular with some of the critics in the area.

Money began trickling in.

Jack sat cross-legged on the floor in the front room of their apartment. In front of him sat a stack of money that he could only stare at.

_You earned that, _he thought. _And you didn't just _earn _it. You earned it with your art. _

He couldn't believe people were excited about his work. He couldn't believe people were giving him money for his work. It was something he'd always dreamed about but had never thought would actually happen.

Just then Rose rushed into the room, a copy of the_ New York Times_ clutched to her chest.

"Jack!" she cried, throwing herself down beside him.

"What is it?" he asked, alarmed.

"Look!" She thrust the newspaper at him.

He took it. There was a short article she had circled with a red pen titled "An Extraordinary Talent Comes out of Nowhere", and it was all about him. He could barely read it his mind was moving so quickly. When he finally got through it, he looked up at Rose.

"I don't know how this happened," he said in a dazed voice.

"I do," Rose replied with a smile. "I knew this would happen. I just didn't know it would happen so soon."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did. I believed in you. I _still_ believe in you."

"But what if I had never amounted to anything?" he asked tentatively.

Rose just stared at him. "You were already everything. You didn't have to do or become anything else as far as I'm concerned. I want you to succeed for yourself, because you deserve it." She reached out and took one of his hands, lacing her fingers through his.

Jack covered their intertwined hands with his other one and looked down at then. "I get worried sometimes that I won't be able to give you the life I want to—the life you deserve. You believe in me so much, and I worry I won't be able to live up and you'll realize what little I can accomplish is nothing compared to what someone else could."

Rose cupped his chin and lifted his head so his eyes were looking directly into hers. "Don't ever think that," she said. "I fell in love with you because of who you are not because of what you had or didn't have and not because of what you might eventually have."

"I underestimate you too much, don't I?" Jack tried to turn the statement into a joke but failed.

Rose smiled a sad half-smile. "I don't think you intend to. I just think you've been told too many times that you aren't good enough—for me—for everything, really, but that isn't true. You said once you wished I could see myself the way you see me, well, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Jack didn't reply. He pulled Rose to him and held her tightly. She wrapped her arms around him, cementing their embrace.

Meanwhile someone else was reading the paper a few states away. A few weeks earlier Cal had given up hope of ever finding them. He consoled himself by reasoning that it didn't matter if he got the diamond back or not because no-one except him—and of course, them—knew it still existed. Therefore, no-one else knew he had failed.

He was finally letting go of everything involved with _Titanic_. He was moving on, and he liked it. That incident was a black spot on his life that he simply wasn't going to think about ever again.

Until his eyes happened to fall on a certain article.


	35. Chapter 35

Jack's popularity continued to increase, and with it so did the money that was coming in. He had no idea what to do with it. To him even the relatively small amount of wealth that he was accumulating seemed like a vast fortune.

A vast fortune he had never expected or planned.

Rose silently watched everything that was going on. Some part of her had always known this was going to happen eventually. She loved seeing the look in Jack's eyes whenever someone complimented his work.

However, she wasn't entirely without things to do herself. Reading had become her chief occupation. Before she had always longed for the time and freedom to explore politics and philosophy, but her interests had always been discouraged. She wasn't smart enough. It wasn't fit for a woman—and on and on. Her mother and Cal had always been annoyed by her intellectual leanings—and said so—but Jack loved that about her.

In the weeks since his success had begun they had developed a routine of sorts. While he painted, she read. Eventually they would take a break together and each would eagerly share whatever they had done and discovered. It was a good system. It allowed them to be together yet enjoy the "alone time" that every couple needs.

The morning after Jack's article was printed; they were buried in their usual projects when Rose suddenly broke the silence.

"Jack."

"M-hhm."

"Can I tell you something and you promise not to think it's stupid?"

Jack turned away from his latest painting. "I would never think that," he said.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"There's something I've been thinking of doing, but…" She bit her lip nervously. She trusted Jack not to ridicule her, but that didn't make her feel any less ridiculous about what she was trying to say.

"What is it?" Jack asked, intrigued to hear the answer.

"I want to write," she said quickly. "But not just anything—I want to write political things." She waited for anxiously for his response.

He didn't say anything for a moment, but then he smiled. "You should do it."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it. Why shouldn't you?"

"I'm not smart enough?"

"Who said?"

Rose was about to answer when she realized it wouldn't be a good idea. She just shrugged instead.

"That's what I thought. Rose, you can do anything you put your mind to. You are articulate and intelligent—you've read everything in the local library by this point—and you should be developing a thing of your own. Remember when you said you wanted that?"

Rose nodded. "I did say that."

"Alright then."

"How do you do that?" Rose asked.

"Do what?"

"Believe in me so much."

"The same way you believe in me," he replied.

While they were doing that Cal was deciding what exactly he was going to do. He couldn't believe Jack had actually become successful. It disgusted him to think that the two of them might be living a decent—let alone _good_—life together.

He didn't trust anyone else to take care of the matter for him, and the less people involved the better he always said. However, he was smart enough to know he couldn't just charge in, guns blazing—not again anyway.

He decided it would be best not to act yet. He needed more information, and he knew just how to get it.


	36. Chapter 36

"Well, I think it would be a good idea—a good way to introduce you to people," Maxwell said.

Jack frowned. "Really?"

"Yes, really. The critics love your work—and buyers love it too, but if you want to continue to succeed you need to reach more people. One of the best ways to do that is to put yourself out there. What's the matter, do you have something against parties?"

"No. I just don't like certain kinds."

"Well, you can do it however you want."

"I can?" Jack's eyes brightened.

"Eh, well, actually, no. I just said that because I knew you'd go for it." Maxwell leaned forward. "Look, I know you're the type of person who likes to do things his own way, but sometimes you have to do what the crowd wants. Unfortunately the crowd is made up of exactly the kind of people you want most to avoid. Now, when you become the sort of name that no-one is going to question then you can do things however you want."

Jack sighed. He knew Maxwell was right, and besides he felt he owed it to him.

"Okay."

Maxwell beamed. "I'll get things started then."

Not only was it going to be a party, it was going to be a lavish affair, and it was going to be held in New York.

Rose, however, was much more excited by it. "But Jack, don't you realize what this means?" she asked excitedly.

"We have to go all the way back to New York just to spend an evening talking to arrogant people we don't know?"

"No!" She smacked his arm. "It means you're really going somewhere."

After a moment she added, "And it means what you said too, but that's okay."

"It is?" Jack was doubtful.

"Yes, it is, don't you see?"

"But I don't care about impressing the kind of people who wouldn't have even looked at me before," Jack said.

"This isn't about impressing them. Jack, this is about getting the chance to look them in the eye and saying, 'You know that person you didn't think was worth anything? Well, that's me, and I've made it in spite of you.'"

"I didn't think of it like that," he said thoughtfully.

"Well, you don't have to think of it like that if you don't want to, but I do. All my life I was surrounded by people who were convinced they were better than anyone else because of what their last name was or how much money they had, but the truth is most of them weren't very good people—not in the ways that count."

"I don't want to know what that makes me," Jack joked.

"The best person I have ever known."

Jack just looked at her.

"I mean that," she added.

"And yet I lack all the essential advantages."

"You don't lack anything," Rose said softly, reaching up to touch his face.

"How is it that you were raised in that world yet you turned out so different?" Jack asked quietly.

"I honestly don't know," Rose laughed. "I wish I did. I wish I could explain why I turned out so wrong."

"You didn't turn out wrong at all," Jack assured her, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "You're an amazing woman." He punctuated the statement with a kiss.

Later that afternoon Maxwell called to say he had set the party for the following week. He was also having the papers run an announcement.

When Jack heard that his doubts began to creep back up.

"It just feels weird," he told Rose after the call ended.

"That's okay," she said gently.

Jack frowned and stared at his shoes as though they were the most interesting things he had ever seen. He was so busy brooding he didn't notice Rose leave the room and come back a few minutes later.

"Jack."

He looked up at the sound of his name and saw Rose leaning against the doorway dressed in a corset and petticoat.

He tried to speak but couldn't.

"Could you help me unlace this?" Rose's tone was that of a mistress commanding a servant.

"Oh yes, miss," Jack said, moving toward her. He backed her through the doorway and into their bedroom.

They were standing only inches from each other. He reached behind her and began untying the knot that held her laces together. Rose silently watched him, her face giving no indication of the way he was making her feel.

It should have only taken him a matter of seconds to unlace it, but he was deliberately slow about it. He could play too.

Just when Rose was sure he would never finish she felt the corset begin to fall away. "Finally," she sighed.

"What was that, miss?" he teased. "If you wanted me to go faster you should have said so."

Rose chose not to reply verbally. She pulled him into a deep kiss, pressing their bodies together.

Later they lay belly to belly, legs intertwined—and exhausted. Rose's head rested on Jack's arm. His other arm was draped across her, his fingertips gently stroking her face.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Us."

"What about us?"

"I was thinking how I don't want us to change."

"What do you mean by change?"

"I don't want our relationship to be different. I don't want it to become empty. I don't want us to stop wanting each other," he said.

"That isn't going to happen. Why are you worried about it?" Rose asked even though she thought she knew why.

"Everything else is changing—and it's all been a good thing, but I don't want us to somehow end up becoming the very people we've fought so hard against."

Rose gave him a gentle, reassuring kiss. "I promise that won't happen, Jack. I don't believe that could ever happen. We are who we are, and no amount of money or anything else will change that. Can you trust me on this?"

Jack smiled. There she was throwing his usual words back at him. "I can trust you about anything."

Little did they know that a few days later a certain someone just happened to be reading the paper and spotted something quite interesting.


	37. Chapter 37

Cal had been planning to go to Savannah and confront them there, but once he found out they would be going to New York within a week he altered his plans. Secretly he was glad they were coming to New York. It took less time to get there, and he was already familiar with it. Nothing wrong with a little convenience being thrown his way—at least that's what he told himself.

He gave in and brought one extra person into the matter. He hired a private detective so he could know when they arrived in New York and where they stayed. His desire to remain the only person aware of his interest in them did not extend so far as to cause him to actually do anything for himself.

The Tuesday before the party he went to New York. It seemed like a good idea to get there early and settle in. On Thursday afternoon he got a call from his detective.

They had arrived.

Jack and Rose stepped off the train at around 2 p.m. Maxwell and his wife Linda had come with them.

"It feels like we left just yesterday," Rose said as they left the station.

"I know what you mean," Jack agreed.

Maxwell and Linda just watched them, amused. "Shall we go to the hotel?" Maxwell suggested. As a reply he received a chorus of nods. "Okay then."

Rose wasn't sure whether to laugh or gasp when they reached the hotel. The first time they had been in New York they had stayed at one of the nicest hotels in the city.

This one was better.

Jack whistled. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, turning to Maxwell.

"It's already taken care of," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Rose squeezed Jack's hand reassuringly. He gave her a half-smile. He couldn't say why, but he didn't have the best feeling.


	38. Chapter 38

AN: It's short and actually kind of sweet, which I feel is only right given what's coming up.

Jack and Rose stood in the middle of their room. Neither of them spoke, but each had a different reason. Jack was too overwhelmed by his surroundings. Rose was uncomfortable in them.

"Well…" Jack said awkwardly.

"Yeah…" Rose said, just as awkwardly.

"Why is this so weird?" Jack asked. "Doesn't it seem like we should be…I don't know, _happy_?"

"One would think."

"So why are we having so much trouble?"

"Well, I'm a bit uncomfortable, and I think maybe it's because I'm afraid you'll think I'll start missing my old life and decide to, well, leave," Rose said matter-of factly. She had decided a less emotional approach might be best.

"That was very, uh, straightforward," Jack said. "I'm not uncomfortable really, I mean, I kind of like this, but I don't want to become dependent on it, you know?"

They just looked at each other for a moment.

Rose nodded. "Jack," she said.

"Yeah?"

"We should maybe start thinking a little less about things."

"You might be onto something with that," he said with a smile. "And now that we've cleared that up, would you care to accompany somewhere?" He offered her his hand.

Rose eyed him suspiciously but took his hand. "And where might that be?"

"You'll see."

"I don't have to close my eyes do I?"

"You do now."

So Rose squeezed her eyes shut, trusting Jack to lead her. When they stepped into an elevator she wanted desperately to open her eyes and see what was going on, but she didn't. Surprises like this were too important to him. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they stopped.

"Okay," he whispered his mouth close to her ear. "Open your eyes."

Rose gasped. The city of New York was laid out in front of her.

Jack wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

"It's beautiful," Rose said.

"I thought you might like it."

"How did—where are we?"

"We're not exactly anywhere."

"Um.." Rose was confused.

"I stayed here once," Jack explained. "And what I really remember most about it was the view from the roof. I wanted to bring you when we were in New York that first time, but there was so much going on."

"I'm glad you brought me this time," Rose said, turning her head slightly to look at him.

"Me too." He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers.

"This doesn't remind you of anything, does it?" Rose asked as she closed the gap between them.


	39. Chapter 39

While Jack and Rose were happily reliving a memory, Cal was securing an invitation to their party. The articles about Jack had mentioned Maxwell's name, and thanks to the skills of the detective he had hired, Cal knew exactly where to find him. He was pleased to discover that Maxwell had absolutely no idea he was connected to either of them.

_Interesting,_ he thought.

"Nothing I've ever heard about you indicated you would be interested in this sort of thing," Maxwell said.

"Oh, I don't talk about it much," Cal replied, his charm on full blast.

"I understand, and by all means, feel free to come."

Cal smiled. "I definitely will."

Later that evening Rose was sitting on the floor of the sitting room that was part of their suite, surrounded by books. She was writing in a notebook balanced on her knee.

"Whatcha doin?" Jack asked from the doorway.

Rose's head snapped up, her concentration broken by his voice. "I'm—uh, well," she stammered, suddenly shy.

"That sounds fun," Jack said, sitting down.

"Don't make fun."

"I wasn't," he said, touching her arm. "You're writing something, aren't you?"

"Yes," Rose said heavily.

"Tell me about it?"

"Not yet. Let me finish it first."

"When it's finished, can I read it?" Jack asked eagerly.

Rose's eyes widened. "Um..well…"

"If you can't share it with _me_, who can you share it with?" Jack asked gently.

"I suppose you're right." Rose smiled sheepishly. "I just don't feel terribly confident about my abilities."

"I do. Now, what did I come in here for—oh, yeah, I'm going out for a bit."

"You are? Where?"

"You'll find out. It's a surprise." Jack kissed her. "I won't be long."

Once he was gone she settled back into her books, forcing herself not to wonder about what he might be doing.

_I never can tell with him, _she thought.

Jack knew she could never tell what he was up to, and he liked that because it made it easier for him to do things to surprise her. He actually wasn't gone very long, having already planned out exactly what he was going to do. His only concern was that she might not like it.

When he made it back to their room he discovered she hadn't moved an inch while he'd been gone.

"Hey," she said as he stepped into the sitting room. "Was I just that deep into this, or were you really barely gone at all?"

"Maybe both." He moved a few of the books aside and sat down close to her.

"So, what was the incredibly secret thing you went off to do?" Rose asked, laying her notebook down.

"I'm gonna need you to close your eyes," Jack said, unable to repress a smile.

"Why didn't I know that?" she asked, returning his smile.

She closed her eyes and was shocked to feel something cool on her neck. "Jack, what—"

He gently shushed her. "Now, I need you to stand up and give me your hand."

"Okay." Rose silently wondered if she would ever really become accustomed to Jack's love of getting her to close her eyes and leading her places.

"Open your eyes."

Rose saw her reflection in the mirror, and for a second wasn't sure why he had gone to so much trouble just to get her to look into a mirror when she remembered the cool feeling against her neck.

"Jack!" she gasped as her mind processed the strand of pearls around her neck. "How…why…" She couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Do you not like them?" he asked anxiously.

"I love them!" Rose exclaimed. Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him. For a brief moment he had been certain he'd made a mistake.

"But why?" she asked.

"What do you mean? Does there have to be a reason besides that I love you?"

"Well, no, I suppose not…I don't think I've ever gotten anything like this from someone just because they loved me."

He hugged her from behind. "You have now."

"And they match my ring," Rose said, suddenly noticing that her wedding ring was also a pearl.

"Uh-huh." Jack grinned. "Planned that myself. And I know wedding rings are usually diamonds, but I kind of thought, well…"

"Not a diamond, definitely," Rose said, finishing his sentence. She leaned against him. "Did I ever tell you that I don't actually care very much for diamonds?"

"No. Why don't you like them?"

"I don't know exactly, but they've never appealed to me. A diamond isn't something I would choose for myself."

"What would you choose?"

"Honestly, I've always liked pearls," she said, turning to face him. Their lips were just about to meet when there was a knock on the door.

"Whoever it is has some seriously bad timing," Jack said. Rose nodded. He quickly crossed to the door and opened it.

It was Maxwell and Linda.

"We came to invite you to dinner," Maxwell said.

"Thanks," Jack replied.

"Oh, wow!" Linda exclaimed, stepping past Jack and into the room. "Rose, those are beautiful."

Rose beamed. "Aren't they? Jack just gave them to me."

Linda shot Maxwell a look. "What?" he asked, pretending not to know what the look was about.

"Oh, nevermind," she said. "Let's just go to dinner."


	40. Chapter 40

Dinner was pleasant and uneventful, yet Jack had a bad feeling the entire time. He couldn't explain why, and he couldn't make it go away. He chose not to tell anyone about it. It seemed like the best plan. No need to cause worry over nothing, and he knew Rose would worry even if Maxwell and Linda didn't.

Once on the walk back to the hotel Rose looked at him curiously, as though she were about to ask if something was wrong, but he spoke before she had a chance to.

He lay awake that night, watching her sleep. She was curled around him, her head resting on his shoulder. He told himself there was nothing to worry about, but as he watched her the feeling grew stronger.

He didn't know what, if anything, was coming, but he promised himself he wouldn't let anything happen to her.


	41. Chapter 41

Jack felt a bit foolish remembering his fears of the night before as he looked out the window at the bright, sunny day. "You just had a weird attack of paranoia," he said aloud to himself.

The day flew by, and he wasn't sure why because he actually did very little. After breakfast Linda took Rose off to go shopping, Maxwell went off to do—actually Jack wasn't sure what—and he had gone on a long walk which ended with him sketching in Central Park.

It felt nice to be just some random guy drawing again. No-one there seemed to have any idea who he was, which had not been the case lately. He found himself missing the anonymity. He liked the success, though. He liked the security it was providing. He wouldn't have told Rose, but it had begun occurring to him that neither of them would be young forever.

He walked into their room a little after sunset and found a half-dressed Rose brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

"Having to spend the day by myself doesn't seem so bad since this is what I get to come back to," he said giving her a quick kiss.

Rose pointed at him with the brush. "Don't you even," she warned. "Go and get dressed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack said, all innocence, but he did as she commanded.

Getting dressed for the party took him almost no time. He quickly found himself standing around near the door, waiting for Rose. His back was facing the door that led from the bedroom when he heard what could only be described as an insistent throat clearing.

He turned around and saw Rose standing behind him. A small smile played about her lips. Her fiery curls had been gathered into what appeared to him to be an extremely intricate up-do. A few curls had escaped and framed her face. She was wearing the pearls he had given her. Her dress was white silk with a layer of delicate white lace over it. Jack probably couldn't have said what the design was called, but he knew he liked it.

"You're not saying anything," Rose said nervously. "That doesn't bode well."

"You're so beautiful," Jack whispered, taking her into his arms.

Rose blushed. She didn't know why, but something about the look in his eyes made her. Jack kissed her. It was a long, slow kiss that left them both breathless.

"We don't have to go," Rose said quietly.

For a moment Jack wanted to agree with her. Suddenly the feeling of dread he'd had the night before was back, and all he wanted to do was carry Rose off to bed. He wanted to make love to her as though there would never be another chance, chase away whatever paranoia had taken over his mind.

But he said, "Yes, we do."

They walked into the party, hands clasped. A sea of extremely well-dressed people was spread out in front of them. Jack whistled.

"It is a bit overwhelming," Rose said. She squeezed his hand. "But we can handle it."

Jack was about to reply when Maxwell and Linda spotted them. "Don't just stand in the doorway like that," Maxwell called, waving them over.

And so it began.


	42. Chapter 42

Things moved quickly as they were swept from person to person, introduction to introduction. Jack didn't think he would be able to remember all the names. Rose couldn't help but be reminded of other parties she had attended in the past. The only difference was she actually cared about this one. They were both so caught up in what was going on that neither of them noticed they were being watched.

Cal was lurking in along a wall across the room, his eyes following their every move. He was waiting for an opportunity—to do what, he hadn't quite decided yet.

After a while Rose's head started hurting. "Jack," she whispered, leaning close to him. "I'm going outside for a moment."

Concern shone in his blue eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just have a slight headache. I think a little air might help."

"I'll come with you."

"No, no, stay," she insisted. "You're the one they all want to see. I'll be fine."

Jack watched her slip out one of the doors leading to the terrace, assuring himself that no-one was following her. When he had convinced himself everything really was fine, he allowed his attention to be drawn away.

Cal smiled to himself. His opportunity had come.


	43. Chapter 43

Cal slipped outside, completely unnoticed. Rose stood a few feet away, just out of sight of the glass door. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed oblivious to the world around her.

Rose was enjoying the way the cool night air felt against her skin. Her head wasn't spinning anymore, and the pain was dissolving. She was just about to head back inside when she felt a pair of hands take hold of her arms. She knew immediately the hands didn't belong to Jack.

Rose's heart began to beat faster. Her stomach curled up in a knot. She decided the best thing to do would be to step forward and try to walk away as if nothing was happening. She moved her foot forward and the hands tightened their grip.

She froze as a familiar voice said, "Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Rose quickly recovered her composure. Panic would get her nowhere. "Why not?" she asked, as though she felt no fear at all.

Cal dug his fingers into her arms. She sucked in her breath to avoid crying out in pain.

"Don't you talk that way to me," he hissed.

"Or what?" she snapped. "If I scream, do you realize how many people will hear it?"

Before she knew what was happening Cal had circled around her and was slamming her against the wall. Pain tore through her body as it hit the stone wall. Tears sprang into her eyes. She bit her lip and willed herself to remain quiet. She wouldn't let him hear how much it hurt.

"Do _you _realize what I could do to you before any of them figured out where you were?" he said, his face close to hers. He pressed his body against hers, holding her still.


	44. Chapter 44

Rose's blood ran cold. Not only did she know he was right, but she knew he would do whatever he was hinting at. She didn't want to think about what exactly that might be.

"What do you want?" she asked calmly, hoping she could talk her way out of the situation.

"I want the diamond."

"What?" Rose was confused.

"You heard me. You have it. I want it," Cal snapped.

"But I don't have it," Rose said.

Cal was speechless as his brain processed her words. "What do you mean you don't have it?" he asked, flabbergasted. "Of course you have it!"

"I don't," she insisted. "I haven't seen it since that light night on the _Titanic_. I thought _you_ had it."

Suddenly she was angry. He wanted that diamond? He had stalked and cornered her in the dark because he wanted that diamond?

"Why couldn't you have just asked me like a normal person?" she demanded.

"What?"

"I would have given it to you," she continued, "if I had it—and if you had the decency to just _ask me_!"

With her anger came a strength she didn't know she had. She shoved him away and ran back inside.


	45. Chapter 45

"Jack!" Rose cried as she ran through the door. People stopped talking and turned to stare at her as she continued running.

Jack was all the way on the other side of the room, but somehow he managed to bridge the gap between him and Rose in mere moments. He pulled her to him. "Are you okay?" he asked, though he was quite sure she wasn't.

"He's here," she said trying to keep her voice steady.

There was no need to ask who "he" was. "Where?" Jack demanded.

"Outside."

"Come on." He took her hand and they hurried over to Maxwell, ignoring the stares they were receiving.

"We need to call the police," Jack said to Maxwell.

"Why?" Maxwell couldn't contain his shock—and curiosity.

"I don't have time to explain it all now, but there is someone here who shouldn't be and he attacked Rose."

Maxwell's eyes widened. "Okay," he said, hurrying off.

"Jack do you think they'll actually do anything?" Rose asked.

"We'll just have to wait and find out, but if they don't…" Jack didn't finish his threat. He put an arm around Rose and pulled her close.

Linda rushed over to them. "What happened?" she asked.

"It's a long story," Jack said. "We'll explain it later."

Just then Maxwell came back in, accompanied by two policemen. He hurried back over to Jack and Rose.

"Where is he, ma'am?" asked one of the policemen.

Rose turned to point toward the door leading outside just as Cal was trying to slip back inside without being seen.

"There!" she cried, pointing directly at him.

Cal froze, but as the two policemen began to run toward him, he turned and ran back outside.

Twenty minutes later the police came back inside, empty handed.

"He jumped the fence and we lost him," the first one said.

"Do you know who he is, miss?" asked the second one.

"Yes, I do," Rose answered.

Meanwhile Cal was racing down the streets of New York. He had a vague idea that the police were no longer following him, but it was as if he had lost the ability to control his body. Eventually he grew winded and was forced to stop.

As he caught his breath he realized exactly what had just happened. He had escaped being arrested, but for how long?

_They're sure to tell who you are,_ he thought.

_But who's going to believe _them? He argued with himself.

Then he remembered: Jack had become important. Jack had gotten his hands on money.

_Maybe he doesn't have as much as you, but they won't just ignore him anymore._


	46. Chapter 46

The police assured Jack and Rose they would find Cal and then they left. Rose wasn't sure she believed them, but Jack had noticed a difference in the way they spoke to him then versus the way they would have spoke to him before. He wasn't unconvinced his new success wouldn't have an effect on their efforts.

"I'm so sorry this happened," Maxwell said.

Linda nodded in agreement. "It's just terrible." She laid a hand on Rose's shoulder.

"I'm fine," Rose assured them. "I really am." She looked up at Jack, her eyes meeting his. "I mean it."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Rose insisted.

Jack looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Okay," he said finally. Turning to Maxwell he added, "I'm sorry about all of this."

Maxwell dismissed his apology with a wave of his hand. "None of this was your fault. I just hope the police find him."

"Why would he do this?" Linda asked. "He's always been such a charming man."

"That's what he wants you to think," Rose said. "But it isn't real."

"How do you know him?" Linda was puzzled.

"Why don't we go back to the hotel, and they can tell us the whole story?" Maxwell suggested.

"That's a good idea," Jack agreed.

A few minutes later Maxwell had smoothed things over with the other partygoers and the little group was starting up the street. Linda and Maxwell were walking together just a little ahead of Jack and Rose. All of them were silent.

Suddenly a rage-filled scream broke through the quiet. Each of them whirled around to see what was going on.

Cal was standing just past the corner, about 100 feet away of them. His face was curled into a snarl. "You called the police on _me_?" he yelled. "Youthink that just because a few people find you amusing now you can go up against _me_?" He raised his arm and they could see the gun in his hand.

Jack shoved Rose behind him.

"Let's see you try now!" Cal yelled, aiming the gun at Jack.

"NO!" Rose screamed, throwing herself in front of him and pushing him back just as Cal pulled the trigger.


	47. Chapter 47

For a second Rose didn't think anything had happened. She had heard the gun fire, but the bullet hadn't hit anything as far as she could tell.

Then she felt a sharp pain.

_It hit me_, she thought as her body crumpled and fell to the ground.

Cal's arm was still raised, the gun now pointing at Jack, but he didn't notice it. He just stood in a daze, unable to comprehend what he had just done.

Jack watched a look of confusion and then understanding pass across Rose's face as she fell to the ground. It happened too fast for him to move. As the reality of the situation sank in, he began to feel as though he were detached from his body.

"Rose!" he screamed, sounding more like a wounded animal than a person.

Jack's howl shattered Cal's daze, and he made a move as if to run. Without thinking, Jack sprang forward and ran toward him. Cal turned to run, but Jack crashed into him before he could take more than a few steps.

The impact of Jack's body knocked Cal to the ground. Jack came down on top of him. Cal never had a chance to react; the instant he was close enough Jack's fists began colliding with him—any part of him. 

Out of the corner of his eye Jack noticed Cal was still clutching the gun. In one quick motion he grabbed it and jumped to his feet. He pointed the gun at Cal.

_He really might kill me_, Cal thought, suddenly taking Jack seriously for the first time.


	48. Chapter 48

Jack's body was shaking, but the hand with the gun was perfectly steady. In the back of his mind he had a vague understanding that what he was about to do was not only wrong but also going to make the situation much worse.

He didn't care.

Cal stared up at him, eyes wide with shock and terror. It had never occurred to him that Jack might actually end up making good on his threat, and now that it was possibly about to happen, he didn't know what to do or think.

Jack had just barely begun to squeeze the trigger when the sound of his name startled him.

"Jack," Rose repeated softly.

He turned around. She was looking straight at him, trying to pull herself up with Linda's help. He had been so immediately consumed by a need for revenge that he had forgotten she was still there. At that moment, Jack hated himself completely.

"Oh Rose." He moved to her, gathering her into his arms. Tears sprang into his eyes as he saw the deep red stain that had spread over the side of her dress. "You're okay," he said, possibly more to reassure himself than anyone else. "You will be okay."

Rose nodded. "I will be," she said weakly. The color had drained from her face and her eyes were dull. The pain she felt was intense, but she was trying to hide it.

Just then Maxwell ran up, several policemen in tow. He had gone for help the moment after Rose had been shot, but no-one had noticed.

Cal was still lying where Jack had left him. It had never occurred to him to even try to run away. During his arrest he was silent. He felt as though he were outside of himself, as though he were watching someone else be arrested.

As Cal was led away, an ambulance arrived. Jack refused to allow anyone else to touch Rose, and in the end he was allowed to carry her inside. He held her until they arrived at the hospital and a doctor forced him to let go.


	49. Chapter 49

AN: I'm sure some of you wanted to see Jack kill Cal, but when I pictured it going that way it just seemed wrong for some reason. I don't know why, maybe it's just how I see his character. I also think if Cal was just killed off it would be too easy.

Jack had been silently staring at his hands for over two hours. He hadn't moved or made a sound since Rose had been taken into surgery. Maxwell and Linda had considered trying to talk to him, but they'd decided it would be best to just leave him alone. Instead they watched anxiously from across the waiting room, neither daring to think about what might happen if it turned out Rose wouldn't—or hadn't—made it.

Jack couldn't bring himself to stop looking at the smears of blood on his hands. _Rose's blood_ echoed through his mind like a never-ending chant. _I have her blood on my hands—in every way possible. _

Jack wanted to cry. He wanted to scream so loud it would drown out the cold fear and anguish that gripped his heart, but he didn't. He remained silent because deep down he knew there wasn't anything he could do to change the situation. He could do nothing to save her.

_You did nothing to save her_. _You let this happen._

Jack was on the verge of being completely consumed by his guilt when he was interrupted by the sound of someone saying his name. He looked up to see a doctor standing in the doorway, chart in hand.

"Right here," Jack said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. He stood up and met the doctor halfway between the door and his chair. "How is she?" This time his voice shook slightly.

"She's stable. Fortunately, the bullet missed her spine and major organs, and she actually didn't lose very much blood." The doctor paused to allow Jack time to process the information.

"So, you're saying she'll be okay?" Jack asked anxiously.

"That's what I'm saying. However—"

Jack didn't hear anything but the confirmation that Rose wasn't dying.

"Can I see her?" he demanded.

"Yes, but—"

"Now?" Jack moved toward the door.

"Fine," the doctor said, gesturing for Jack and the others to follow him into the hallway. He would tell him the rest of the news later.

When he saw Rose lying in the hospital bed, her normally fair skin drained to a deathly white that was made all the more obvious next to her fiery curls, he couldn't stop himself from crying. It was just too much.

"Jack?" she whispered, opening her eyes.

"Right here," he assured her, taking her hands in his. He kissed her fingertips. "I'm right here."

Maxwell and Linda watched from the doorway not wanting to interrupt the moment.

"So I'm okay?" Rose asked.

"You're okay," Jack said. He squeezed her hands. "You're fine, just like I said you would be."

Rose's eyes slowly began to close. "That's good to hear." Her voice had grown fainter.

"Rose, I love you," Jack said, hoping she would hear it before she fell asleep.

She smiled weakly but didn't open her eyes. "I love you too," she said before falling into a deep sleep.

"Jack?" Maxwell whispered.

Jack turned his head. He had completely forgotten anyone else existed. "Yeah?"

"We're going to go. Are you staying?"

"I'm not leaving until she does."

They both knew it would be no use arguing with him. "Okay," Maxwell said. They turned and quietly left.

As soon as they were gone the doctor stepped back into the room. "Mr. Dawson, I need to speak with you," he said, quietly but insistently.

Jack turned to look at him. "About what? I thought you said she was fine?"

"She is, but—look, just come out into the hall for a moment."

Jack reluctantly let go of Rose's hands and followed the doctor into the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked.

"There's something you need to know," the doctor paused, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. "When your wife was shot the bullet destroyed one of her ovaries and ended up in her uterus. Now, I can't say for certain, but the chances of her ever being able to have children are almost nonexistent."

Jack felt as if he had been plunged back into the icy Atlantic Ocean.

"Does she know?" he asked.

The doctor shook his head. "I haven't had a chance to tell her yet, and it might be best if you do."

"I'll tell her," Jack said absently. The full impact of what exactly had happened had yet to hit him. He turned and went back into Rose's room, closing the door behind him. He dropped into the chair by her bed. He didn't notice when he began to cry.

The sound of Rose shifting positions in her sleep brought him back to reality. He carefully laid down beside her and pulled her close. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair before falling into a deep sleep of his own.


	50. Chapter 50

The next morning Rose woke up in Jack's arms. She looked into his face as he slept, and for a moment she didn't realize where she was. The events of the previous night felt like some hellish nightmare and nothing more. Unfortunately, the illusion didn't last, and gradually it became all too real.

"Jack!" she cried shaking him, overcome by a sudden wave of terror.

He jumped up, his body tensed. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing, I guess. I just needed to hear your voice," Rose said, feeling foolish. "I woke up and everything from last night came rushing back to me, and I just…" She tried to explain with her eyes what she couldn't with words.

Jack took her face in his hands. "I'm so sorry Rose," he said. "I shouldn't have let—"

"No!" Rose interrupted him. "Nothing that happened last night was your fault. You didn't _let_ anything happen. How could you—how could anyone have known what he was going to do?"

Jack shook his head. "I shouldn't have let you jump in front of me like that," he said insistently. "That bullet was meant for me, not you. I shouldn't have let you do that."

"You didn't let me, and you couldn't have stopped me," Rose said. Her tone left no room for argument. "Jack, I made the choice last night, and my choice was to try and protect you. I know how deeply you want to protect me, but you have to let me do the same for you. I knew there was a good chance I'd die—" Jack's face tightened. "—but that didn't matter if it meant you wouldn't." She touched his face. "I don't want to live even one day in a world that doesn't have you in it."

"I don't know what I would have done if you'd died last night," Jack said heavily.

"Don't think about it," Rose said, stroking his cheek. "I'm right here."

Jack's hands moved from her face to her waist. He pulled her closer as she began kissing him. She rested one hand on the back of his neck and twisted the other in his soft, blonde hair.

"I was afraid I'd never get to kiss you again," he whispered, pulling his lips away from hers.

Rose smiled. "For awhile I was too."

"I have to tell you something, but I don't know how," Jack said, his eyes taking on a new somberness.

"What is it?" Rose asked anxiously.

"Well, you're going to be fine, but because of the where you were shot…" Jack didn't know how to finish telling her.

"What? Jack, please, tell me!" She looked into his eyes, half hoping to find the answer there.

"You'll probably never be able to have children," he said quietly.

"What?" Rose felt as though the room were spinning. "Not—not ever?"

"The doctor said there was almost no chance."

Rose wanted to cry, but it was as if she had no tears left. "How—why?" she cried. "Why us? Haven't we been through enough?" She buried her face in Jack's chest. He held her tighter.

"It's like losing something I never realized how badly I wanted," she continued quietly.

"Me too."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"I wish you'd killed him," Rose said. "I wish I'd been quiet and let you."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Jack said sadly.

"I know, but I want him to pay for what he's done to us—and I know he won't." The tears Rose had wanted earlier came suddenly in full force. She sobbed into Jack's shirt. "This is not what was supposed to happen to us."


	51. Chapter 51

Rose was allowed to leave the hospital a few days later. They went back to the same hotel room they'd been staying in before everything happened. Jack had stayed with her the entire time she was in the hospital. She begged him to go back to the hotel and get a decent night's sleep, but he wouldn't hear of it. Rose's hospital bed was only big enough to hold one person comfortably, but somehow they made it work. Though she did want to see him get some rest Rose was glad he never left her.

Maxwell and Linda brought them both fresh clothes and visited during the day, but they only stayed for an hour or two at a time. They didn't say it, but it was hard for them to be there. They still didn't know the full story behind Jack and Rose's connection with Cal, but they had pieced a few things together from what the papers were saying.

The morning after the shooting all the papers—major and local—had it as their top story. Headlines reading "Steel tycoon shoots woman" were everywhere. Gradually, as the reporters gathered more information, the articles began to mention Rose by name. Whether because Cal's family was managing to keep it quiet or whether the reporters just weren't digging deep enough, none of them had made the connection between the Rose Dawson he had shot and the Rose DeWitt Bukator he had once been engaged to and who was presumed dead.

Rose was startled to see their room looked exactly the same as it had when they'd left it almost a week before. It was as if none of it had happened, and if not for the scar on her abdomen she could possibly have convinced herself of that.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked gently, laying a hand on her arm.

"Yes," Rose said absently. She touched his hand. "It's just so strange. Everything's the same…except that it's not."

Jack was overcome by the urge to hold her. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay—and somehow make it be true. He hated seeing the sadness that had filled her eyes since she'd found out they couldn't have children. It hurt him deeply, but watching Rose hurt was worse.

"We'll be okay," he said.

She looked into his eyes. "Do you believe that?" she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

"I believe it." He took her hands in his. "I know we can make it through anything as long as we're together."

"I know you're right," Rose said, "but it's so hard for me to believe it sometimes. I think we've finally made it through everything, and then something else gets thrown at us."

"I wish there was something I could do to make things easier, but I don't know how," Jack said. "I promise to do everything I can to make you happy and keep you safe."

"I promise too."

Their moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Hands clasped, they answered it together.

"We thought you were coming back today," Maxwell said. "We wanted to come and see how you were doing."

"Yes, how are you?" Linda asked.

"I'm okay," Rose replied. "I was very lucky, though." They had decided not to tell anyone else about the effect of Rose's injury. It didn't seem like the kind of thing other people needed to know.

Linda gave Rose a concerned look. She sensed there was something Rose wasn't saying. "Are you sure?" she asked gently.

Rose smiled slightly. "I'm sure. It's just been a very stressful few days, and I'm exhausted." Looking at Jack she added, "We both are actually."

Jack's eyes were open, but he appeared to be asleep on his feet. He hadn't slept well while Rose was in the hospital. He could deal with the size of the bed—they slept so close together anyway—but he had a lot of trouble relaxing enough to fall asleep. He kept worrying about Rose, if she really was going to be okay, how she was being affected by everything that had happened—and what would end up happening to Cal. They hadn't talked about him since Rose had said she wished Jack had killed him. Secretly, Jack wondered if it wouldn't have been the best thing to do.

"You look exhausted," Maxwell said sympathetically. "We came to invite you to lunch, but I think you'd both be better off with a nap."

"Thanks anyway for the invitation," Jack said with a small smile. "We'll have dinner with you if we're awake by then."

"Okay. Call us if you need anything," Maxwell said.

"Yes, do," Linda added.

"We will," Jack assured them.

Once they were gone Jack and Rose collapsed onto the bed. They were completely physically and emotionally drained. They wrapped their arms around each other and fell into a deep, healing sleep, both hoping things would look better when they woke up.


	52. Chapter 52

Meanwhile Cal was learning there were some things not even _he_ could just walk away from. His father had taken the first train into New York the morning after his arrest and insisted he be taken before a judge and his bail set, but he wasn't allowed to leave the city. The money and connections that normally worked so well to his advantage had actually worked against him in this situation. He had expected his father to argue—or at least instruct the family attorney to do so—when the judge had declared him a "flight risk", but he had just stared straight ahead, silent and tight-lipped.

He didn't say anything as they left the police station and were driven back to Cal's hotel. He didn't even look in Cal's direction.

Once they were alone in Cal's room, he finally spoke. "I just don't understand _why_ you did it," he said. "I've been going over it in my mind, trying to understand what could _possibly_ have possessed you, but I just can't _understand _how you could do something so—so—" he groped for the word he wanted, "_stupid_," he spat in exasperation.

"It's complicated," Cal said carefully. "There's—"

"How complex can it be?" Nathan snapped. "You've clearly lost whatever intelligence you had!"

Cal pushed his anger down. His father was the one person he'd never dare cross. "Let me explain," he began, calmly. "Could I do that?"

Nathan sighed. "Why not? How about you start with who exactly this mysterious woman is."

"She's my ex-fiancée."

Nathan stared at him, confused. "What? You really have lost your mind. That girl's dead."

"No, she isn't. Everyone just thinks she is," Cal said insistently. "I know how it sounds, but it's true. While we were on the _Titanic_ she took up with this—this—_person_," he made the word person sound as though it was something beyond repulsive, "and she ran off."

"What are you saying—that she left you and is letting everyone believe she died?" Nathan was having trouble understanding his son's story.

"Yes, that's basically what I'm saying. She met this man from steerage, and she ran off with him." Cal didn't know how he could make it any clearer.

"But—but why? It doesn't make sense."

"I was there, and I don't understand it," Cal said. "You don't even know the half of what she did." Disgust shone in his dark eyes.

"Well, enlighten me then," Nathan said. "I can't help you deal with a situation I don't understand."

Cal smiled. Those were the words he had been waiting to hear.


	53. Chapter 53

Maxwell and Linda stared in shock across the table. Jack and Rose had just finished telling them their story.

"I read about you in the paper. It said you were dead," Maxwell said in a slightly dazed voice.

"I know it did," Rose said apologetically. "It may seem strange, but I had to let people think that."

"Does your family know you're alive?" Linda asked.

"My mother knows, but honestly I think she'd prefer if I wasn't. She wasn't happy about my decision."

Jack touched Rose's hand. "It doesn't matter," he said.

Rose smiled at him. "No, it doesn't."

"I can't believe you just met by chance and fell in love. It's so romantic. It's like something out of a fairytale," Linda said dreamily.

"I hope the happy ending comes soon," Jack laughed.

Later that night Jack found Rose standing in front of the window, staring up at the sky.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

She leaned against him. "Looking at the moon and the stars. It's a beautiful night."

They were silent for a few minutes. "I can feel you thinking," Jack whispered. "Want to talk about it?"

"I was just…trying to make sense of everything."

"Find out anything?"

"I think so," Rose said hesitantly. "I kept going back to what you said at dinner—about hoping the happy ending comes soon. I realized that maybe our happy ending won't look the way we thought it would, but that's okay."

Jack kissed her hair. "We'll still be happy," he said. "We still have each other, in spite of everything."

Rose turned her head slightly and looked into his eyes. "We'll live happily after all," she said with a small smile.

"I thought it was 'ever after'?"

"Not for us. We'll live happily even after all we've been through—and might still have to go through."

"I like your version better," Jack said as she leaned in to kiss him.

Meanwhile, in another very nice hotel just a few blocks away, Cal was anxiously pacing the length of his room. After he finished explaining the situation his father had just stared at him.

"You believe me, don't you?" Cal had asked. Hearing himself tell the story he'd realized just how odd it might sound to someone else.

"I believe you. I just need to decide how best to handle this. Obviously, it would be best if the press doesn't find out who she is—or was, rather. It would create too much confusion, and it would only generate sympathy for them. You don't look so good to the public as it is. We don't need you anything getting out that will make you look even worse."

"So what should I do?"

"Stay quiet and out of sight for now. Not only can you not go home, but also you can't go anywhere here. The last thing anyone needs to see is you out and about, having a good time."

"What does it matter?" Cal asked, annoyed. "No-one I would know is going to care about someone like her."

"That isn't the point," Nathan said. "You have to look sympathetic, remorseful. There's no way _any_ attorney can convince a jury you didn't do this, but we _can_ convince them you're deeply upset about what you did. It was just a moment of temporary insanity, nothing more. If you go running around New York like nothing's happened, however, there's no way in hell anyone will even _think_ about sympathizing with you."

"Fine. I'll stay here. I won't see anyone," Cal said. He knew his father was right, but more importantly he knew what would happen if he didn't do as his father said.

"Good. I'll go and take care of some things, and when I get back we can discuss this further."

That had been several hours ago, and Cal wasn't eager for his father to return. He desperately wanted his father's help—and secretly wished he would just find a way to take care of the whole mess and be done with it—but he hated having to be around his father for more than a few minutes at a time. It made him nervous. He would start doubting himself, and the longer his father was around the more he felt like a child.

He was startled by the sound of his door being unlocked from the outside. _When did he get a key?_ Despite the help his father was giving, he resented the intrusion.

"Looks like I may have worked something out," Nathan said, stepping inside. "Sit down and listen carefully."


	54. Chapter 54

Early the next morning, Jack and Rose were awakened suddenly by loud knocking. "What is it?" Rose asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I don't know," Jack replied, yawning. "Maybe whoever it is will just go away."

The loud knocking became pounding.

"Or not," Rose said.

They climbed out of bed and made themselves as presentable as possible without resorting to actually getting dressed in day clothes. There wasn't enough time to go to all of that trouble. They quickly answered the door and found themselves staring at two men. They both wore suits and appeared to be in their thirties.

"Can we help you?" Jack asked, puzzled.

"Sorry about waking you up," the first one said. "We need to talk to you quite badly. I'm Detective Holcomb," he pulled out a badge, "and this is Detective Stephens." The second man nodded and produced a badge as he was introduced.

"What do you need to talk to us about?" Rose asked even though she was sure she knew the answer.

"Why don't we step inside?" Stephens suggested. "I don't think it's the sort of think everyone needs to hear."

Once they were all settled in the sitting room, Holcomb leaned forward and said, "Mrs. Dawson—"

"Call me Rose."

"Rose," he began again, "I'm sure this has been a very difficult experience for you, and I don't want to make it any worse—"

"But you're going to, aren't you?" Rose asked.

"I'm afraid I don't have a choice," Holcomb said apologetically. "You see, we need you."

"For what?" Rose was confused.

"You already have _him_, why do you need her?" Jack placed a protective arm around Rose.

"I understand how you feel, but if you don't help us there's a good chance we won't have him. At all."

"How can that be?" Jack was becoming upset. "There's no way he can say he didn't do it. At least four people saw it happen!"

"Exactly," Stephens said. "We need some of those people to explain to a jury what they saw because if they don't it'll make it that much easier for him to just walk away from this."

"Look, we waited as long as we could before we came to talk to you, but we can't wait much longer. His father's pushing for this to end as quickly as possible, and as much as we don't want that there's not a whole lot we can do," Holcomb said. "Now, ideally we'd like to have all four of you on board, but we need you the most Rose."

Rose looked at Jack, half-hoping he would tell her what to do. "Can I think about it for a bit?" she asked.

Holcomb and Stephens exchanged looks. "Okay, but there isn't much time," Holcomb said. They got up to leave. "Here's our card. Call us when you know something," Stephens said, handing Rose a small card.

As Jack closed the door behind them Rose collapsed onto the couch. "I don't know what to do," she said. "There's something wrong with me. How can this be a difficult decision?" She lifted her head to make room for Jack. "What would you do?" she asked, laying her head in his lap.

"You can't just do what I'd do," he said. "You have to do what feels right for _you_, no matter what that is." He brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. "I will support whatever decision you make."

Rose sighed. "This would be so much easier if you were less wonderful," she said.

"I'll try to remember to tone that down," Jack said. 

"Seriously, would you do it? Go up there and testify against him?"

Jack didn't answer at first. "Yeah, I think I would. I'd want to know that even if things didn't turn out the way I'd like—"

"If he got to just walk away like nothing happened, you mean," Rose said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Exactly. If that happened, I'd want to know I'd done everything I could to stop it."

"They could really make things difficult for us," Rose said somberly.

"Any more than they already have?"

She smiled. "You have a point. I guess I'm just afraid of making everything worse. I don't want to invite more trouble into our lives, that's all."

"I understand, and if you don't want to do this, you don't have to," Jack said gently. "You've been through enough."

"_We've_ been through enough," Rose corrected him. "But…what's a little more?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're right about wanting to do everything you can to make sure he doesn't just get away with this. Remember when I told you I wished you'd killed him?" Jack nodded. "Well, that wouldn't have solved anything. I wanted—I want him to pay for everything he's done to us, and that means I have to do something to try and make that happen."

"Are you sure? Like you said, they can do a lot to make sure life isn't easy for us."

"I know, but I have to do this. I kind of knew that the whole time."

"Okay. We'll call them this afternoon."


	55. Chapter 55

AN: Hey everyone! Let me know how you feel about where the story's been going the last few chapters.

Things moved quickly after Rose called the detectives and agreed to testify against Cal. It seemed there was no end to the statements she had to make and people she had to meet. The hardest part was asking Maxwell and Linda to stay in New York and testify as well. They reacted much better than Rose had feared they would, and each of them agreed to do it. That mean it would be their word—all four of them—against Cal's.

Rose didn't think it would be enough, but she didn't say anything. Jack told himself it would be. He had to believe there was some measure of justice in the world.

The days flew by until finally…

_Two Weeks Later_

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Rose said nervously. She and Jack were standing outside the courthouse. "Maybe it really doesn't matter after all."

"You've come this far," Jack said. "Do you really want to give up now?"

"Could I, please?"

"Do you mean that?" He looked at her intently. "Because if you decide to give up now, that's it."

Rose sighed. "I just don't want to—oh, this is just makes me stupid—I don't want to have to look at him. I don't want to sit there and feel him watching me."

Jack took her hands. "Hey, I'll be there too," he said reassuringly. "Look at me. Just keep your eyes on me. Pretend that he isn't there—none of them are. You can do this. I know you can."

Rose started to reply, but she was interrupted by yells and the clicking of flashbulbs. Directly ahead of them a crowd of reporters had formed. Each was yelling out questions and requests for statements. Jack and Rose turned to watch the scene. Soon the crowd began to part and three men stepped through—Cal, Nathan, and someone whom Jack and Rose could only assume was their attorney.

Rose felt nauseous. She tightened her grip on Jack's hand. They hadn't noticed them yet. They were too caught up in the media circus that had formed to greet their arrival. As they moved closer to the steps leading up the door, Nathan spotted them out of the corner of his eye. He turned and looked directly at them, a shocked expression in his eyes. On some level, neither of them had been real to him up until then. He'd met Rose, but it even so it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

Cal noticed his father staring off to the side. He looked over to see what was so fascinating. When his eyes landed on Jack and Rose his mouth curled in disgust. Jack just stared at him, his blue eyes blazing with hatred. So did Rose. Cal hated them even more for not being afraid of him—or for not showing it, whichever was the case.

The whole exchange took less than a few seconds. The three of them swept past Jack and Rose without a word, trailed by the ravenous journalists.

Jack breathed a deep sigh of relief once they were gone. He hadn't realized how draining just seeing Cal would be.

"Hey," Rose said, touching his face. "We can do this, remember?"

Jack nodded. "We can. That was just…"

"I know. Me too." Rose took a deep breath. "But it's over now, and soon all of this will be over."

Their eyes met and then their lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, it was a comforting kiss—a kiss of reassurance. _I'm here_ it said.

And then silently they turned, hands intertwined, and walked up the steps.


	56. Chapter 56

The opening statements were brief. Neither Jack nor Rose really heard much until Cal's attorney started talking about his "unfortunate mental state" and how it was "the product of grief." Jack's jaw tensed as he listened to Cal being described as a "good, decent person" who just got mixed up with the "wrong woman." It infuriated him that there were people right there in the room with them who didn't know any better than to believe everything that was being said. He looked over at Rose and saw her mouth was thin. Her body was stiff. He wanted to do something to comfort her, but there wasn't anything he could do. They just had to get through it.

Rose went last, which meant she had to watch everyone else go up and be questioned. Her palms were sweating. Her mouth was dry. She wasn't even sure she remembered how to speak. It was all a blur until Jack's turn came. He squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile. _He's trying to make me feel better_, she thought. It was the same look he'd given her as they had clung to the bow of the _Titanic_ as it sank. _Just like he was even then._ In spite of everything else that was going on, Rose felt a sudden rush of love for him.

She held her breath as he was sworn in. Both Cal and his father were watching him contemptuously. The entire courtroom seemed to lean forward collectively, each person eager to hear his story. Rose didn't. She sat straight as a board, holding his gaze. The first part passed quickly, and then it was _their_ turn. Jack took a deep breath to steady himself. He kept his eyes locked on Rose.

"So, Mr_. _Dawson," the attorney began, glancing at an open folder on the table in front of him. He voice sounded as though just saying Jack's name left a bad taste in his mouth. "Why don't you tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened."

"Okay. Where should I begin?"

"What? Begin at the beginning, of course," he said, looking at Jack the way a person might look at a child that's having trouble understanding something. It was that look that finally did it. Something in Jack snapped. It wasn't right what was happening.

"Yes, obviously, but where is that? The situation that landed us here didn't begin that night," Jack said calmly.

_What is he doing?_ Rose wondered. Everyone else was wondering the same thing. Cal leaned over and whispered something to his father, who nodded. The attorney glanced at them and received a nod as well.

"Okay. When did it begin then?" he asked.

"It began when I met my wife as far as I'm concerned," Jack said. "See—"

"Your wife, now who is that?"

"Don't you know?" Jack asked, feigning surprise. "I thought we already went over this."

"Just answer the question."

"Rose Dawson is my wife."

"Is she here? Could you point to her?"

"Fine." Jack pointed to Rose. Immediately every eye in the room was on her. She shrank under the scrutiny.

"Thank you. Now, what does any of this have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with what happened—with _why _it happened. You've been saying that he's this great person who just happened to meet this awful girl. You're saying she's the one to blame for all of this, but that's just not true at all," Jack said forcefully. "Nothing you've said so far has been true."

"What are you saying?" He was getting annoyed.

"I'm saying I can't just listen to this anymore. He," Jack pointed at Cal, "nearly killed my wife—the most important person in the entire world to me—and so far no-one here seems to be taking that seriously!"

"Mr. Dawson, I'd like to ask you to remain calm. This not the place for _that_ sort of behavior." The attorney eyed Jack disgustedly.

"Fine. Okay. What do you want to know?" Jack said resignedly.

"Why don't we stick to the facts, for instance, how did you meet your wife?"

He led Jack through the entire story, doing his best to make Jack look crazy or just plain stupid at every turn. Finally he said, "That's enough."

As Jack made his way back to his seat, Rose was called. They met in the middle. "I'm sorry I just couldn't take it anymore," Jack whispered, touching her hand as they passed. "It's okay," Rose whispered back.

She took her seat and was sworn in. She could feel Cal's eyes burning into her, but she forced herself not to look in his direction. Instead she stared straight at Jack, hoping eye contact with him would somehow calm her nerves. The first half was quick and relatively easy. All she had to do was tell the story and identify the people involved. It was the second half, the cross-examination, that she was dreading, and it came all too soon.


	57. Chapter 57

"Mrs. Dawson—may I call you Rose?" the attorney asked.

"No," Rose said coldly.

"Very well then. Your husband had some very interesting things to say, but I'd like to hear about the situation from you. Tell me about your relationship with my client."

Rose tried to ignore Cal's glare. "Well," she began, "as was already said I was engaged to him at one time—"

"Yes, you were," the attorney interrupted. "Why did you end that relationship?"

"I didn't want to marry him," Rose said simply.

"Is that all there was to it?"

"At first, yes, but then I met someone else—"

"The man you're now married to, is that correct?"

"Yes—why do I have to go over all of this again?"

"Humour me, would you please? Now, is it not true that your current husband was arrested for stealing from my client?"

"No!" Rose exclaimed.

"So he wasn't arrested? I have a record here that says otherwise."

"He was, but he didn't do it. It was all a set-up."

"A set-up? And what would be the purpose of that?" he asked skeptically.

"To get rid of him," Rose said. She was starting to get upset. "Cal was hoping if he could get Jack out of the picture I'd just give in and marry him, but it didn't work."

"That's quite a scheme you're describing. Are you sure the two of you didn't just come up with a plan to rob my client and then it backfired?"

"What?" Rose asked, wrinkling her face in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Neither does what you or your husband have been saying, Mrs. Dawson."

Rose sighed. "Look, I wasn't happy when I was with Cal. I hated him. I still hate him. Would I have left him if I hadn't met Jack? Probably not. But I did meet him and I married him instead of Cal. That would have been the end of it if he hadn't continued to terrorize us."

"Continued? When did he begin?" He looked at her as if she were crazy.

"Both of us or just me?" Rose snapped.

"There's no need for that," the judge said sternly.

"I'm sorry." Rose looked at her hands. It was just all too much. She looked up and her eyes met Jack's. "You can do it," he mouthed. "I'll try," she mouthed back.

"Are you still with us Mrs. Dawson?"

She jerked her attention to the annoyed attorney. "Yes."

"Good. Now, answer the question. When did this so-called terrorizing begin?"

"It began for the both of us on April 14th," she began, "He—"

"April 14th? The night the _Titanic_ sank?"

"Yes, you see—"

"And the three of you were on it, weren't you?"

"Yes—"

"Managed to fit a lot in, didn't you? Wasn't that the night your husband was arrested for robbery?"

"Yes," Rose said, exasperated. "That was the night my husband was set-up. That was also the night your _client_," she mocked his voice, "first tried to kill us. Ironically, he used a gun that time too."

"He tried to shoot you twice? How is it that only you and your husband have any knowledge of this?"

"We were on a sinking ship! Who would have been paying attention in all that panic and chaos? And he only tried to shoot us once. The second time he got lucky," Rose said disgustedly.

"Isn't it true that you let him believe you died in the sinking?"

Rose stared at him. "What?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, I did. I wanted him to think we were both dead."

"Why is that? Why would you do something like that to a man who cared enough about you to want to marry you?"

"He never cared about me!" Rose cried. "If he had he wouldn't have done any of the things he did."

"Such as?"

"Well, there's the whole reason we're here."

"Are you telling me that you don't think your actions are in any way to blame for what my client did? You don't think leaving him for another man—and letting him believe you were dead on top of that had anything to do with his reaction to seeing you?"

Rose was speechless. "No!" was all she could say.

"You don't think leaving a nude drawing of yourself—done by the very man who left him for—for him to find had anything to do with it?"

"This is absurd! This is all so irrelevant. I did nothing wrong here!" Rose was close to tears.

Jack's hands were balled into fists. He wanted so badly to do something—anything—to make the whole thing end. It infuriated him that all he could do was sit there silently and watch.

"Nothing further."

Rose made her way back to her seat in a daze. On her way she caught a glimpse of Cal smirking to himself. It filled her with an overwhelming desire to grab the nearest chair and break it over his head. She collapsed onto the bench beside Jack.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Rose nodded. "I'm just glad it's over. I don't even care what happens anymore," she whispered back. She laid her head on his shoulder as he put an arm around her.

"Are there any more witnesses?" the judge asked.

"No, your honour," answered the D.A.

"I'd like to call my client, your honour," Cal's attorney said.

"Go ahead then."


	58. Chapter 58

AN: Hey guys, if you've been reading the last few chapters please let me know what you think.

Cal walked up to the stand, head bowed. His expression was somber as he was sworn in.

"Now, Mr. Hockley," his attorney began. "Why don't you tell me about your relationship with the previous witness?"

"We were engaged, and everything was fine until suddenly I discover she's being unfaithful,"  
Cal said.

"Do you know with whom?"

"Yes. She didn't try to hide it. She had an affair with that man." Cal pointed to Jack, who glared at him.

"The one she's currently married to?"

"Are they married?" Cal feigned ignorance. "I've tried not to think too much about it, to be honest."

"That's understandable. Did she try to hide the affair from you?"

"Oh no, not at all."

The jury began to whisper among themselves and some of them glanced in Rose's direction. Her body tensed. Jack squeezed her shoulder.

"You heard me ask her about the drawing," the attorney said, turning to face the jury, "the _nude_ drawing of her. She left that for you to find, didn't she?"

"Yes," Cal said. He wore a pained expression.

"And the man she was having the affair with—her current husband—he drew it, did he not?"

Cal nodded. "Yes, he did, and when I found it I also discovered that a very expensive gift I had given her was missing."

"Do you know what happened to it?"

The jury leaned forward, eager to hear what Cal had to say.

"I discovered soon after that her lover had stolen it."

"Did she know about it?"

"She said at the time she didn't, but now I'm not so sure."

"She also let you believe she died in the sinking of the _Titanic_, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did," Cal said sadly. "She refused to get on a boat. I tried to reason with her, but she became hysterical and ran away. Her name never came up on the survivor lists. I had no choice but to believe she had died."

"So it was a pretty big shock when you discovered she was not only alive but also married to another man, wasn't it?"

"It was the last thing I expected to find out," Cal said. "I was willing to stay with her even after what she did, but.." Cal lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"So naturally, when you saw them together, you became emotional?"

"Regrettably, yes."

"How did this happen?"

"I happened to be at a party they were attending, and once they realized I was there they had me chased out by the police." Cal shook his head sadly. "I don't understand what came over her."

"And then what happened?"

"I'm afraid I let my emotions get the better of me. I came back a little later, words were exchanged, and somehow I became so upset I fired my gun before I realized what I was doing," Cal said, facing the jury, his eyes heavy with the best remorse money can buy.

"You never intended to kill—or even harm—either of them, did you?"

"No!" Cal said emphatically. "Never."

"You just got swept away, didn't you? Let your emotions get the better of you?"

"That's exactly what happened." Cal nodded.

"Nothing further."

"Would you like to question the witness," the judge asked, gesturing toward the D.A.

"No," the D.A. answered in a defeated voice.

Rose felt sick to her stomach. The jury had eaten up everything he said. _I knew this would happen._ Jack wondered yet again why he didn't just kill Cal when he had the chance.

After Cal returned to his seat the closing arguments began. They were brief, and soon the jury was filing out for deliberations.

"I need air," Rose said.

"Me too," Jack replied.

Once they were outside Rose threw her head back and let out a loud, frustrated scream.

"Feel better?" Jack asked.

"Not really." She rubbed her temples.

"Headache?"

She nodded. "A bad one."

Jack began gently massaging the back of her neck at the base of her skull. "It's almost over," he said. "We can get through the rest of it."

"I just wish I could have said something. I wish I could have told them all what a liar he is."

"You tried. That's all that matters. It's up to them who they believe."

"It isn't right."

"I know," Jack said, a note of resignation in his voice. "I wish I could do something to change it."

"So do I," Rose said. A moment later she added, "When this is over, can we go back to wandering?"

"If that's what you want."

"It is. I miss it," she said, turning to face him.

"I miss it too." He put an arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. "I promise, the first chance we get, we'll head back out to the horizon again."


	59. Chapter 59

AN: Hey everyone, if you've been reading the last few chapters please let me know what you think.

It took five hours for the jury to come to a decision. Rose tightened her grip on Jack's hand as they filed back into the courtroom. Her stomach was tied up in knots. She didn't believe they would actually find Cal guilty of anything, but even so she couldn't help being anxious.

Jack was feeling something similar. He kept telling himself it would all work out the way it was supposed to, but it wasn't exactly a comforting thought. Mostly, he just wanted to be out of there. He wanted to forget about the entire mess and everything involved, concentrate on the rest of his life with Rose.

They both held their breath as the foreman stood up to call out the verdict. "We the jury," he said, "find the defendant guilty of assault."

Cal stared at him. What had just happened? That was not what was supposed to be said. He looked over at his father who appeared to be just as confused as he was.

"We finally agreed that although we believe the defendant is not guilty of the attempted murder charge, we do think he should be held accountable for his actions—no matter what their motivation," the foreman explained.

The judge nodded. "Alright—" He went on to say more, but neither Jack nor Rose heard him. They were too stunned.

"Did he really say that?" Rose asked.

"Yeah, I think he did," Jack said.

"I never thought—"

"Me either."

They sat in silence, watching but not really seeing what was going on in front of them.

"Jack," Rose said, "Could we go?"

"You don't want to hear what's going to happen to him?"

Rose shook her head. "It's not important. I heard all I needed to hear."

No-one noticed them leave. They didn't say it, but they both knew a part of their lives had ended. Forever.


	60. Chapter 60

AN: There will be some fluffy chapters coming up. This one isn't as long as I wanted it to be, but my Internet is spotty right now and I wanted to get it posted while it was working.

_8 Months Later—April 1913_

They'd left New York that very night. They went back to Savannah, intent on collecting their few belongings before heading back out again. Deciding they preferred to make their own schedule, they bought an inexpensive car—before realizing neither of them knew how to drive it. They spent three days figuring it out, and by the time they left Rose was shaping up to be the better driver. Jack made an arrangement so he could send his paintings back to Maxwell, who would handle getting them sold and shown. At first he worried the small amount of success he'd had would begin to fade once he and Rose disappeared from sight, but it just fueled the fire. He'd gone from being a brilliant new artist to a brilliant new artist with _mystique._

They wandered through the back roads—dirt paths, more like—and small towns of the South for awhile. As winter took hold, they began heading West. They spent Christmas in Tempe, Arizona, each secretly happy to be safely away from the cold.

Time flew by—as relatively uneventful happiness tends to do—until before they knew it April had come around again. They'd finally made it out to Santa Monica and were staying in a small bungalow on the beach. They'd agreed it was best to take some time off and settle in for awhile. Jack painted the beachgoers—and anything else he happened to see while Rose scribbled furiously into a notebook. He often wondered what she was writing, but she never showed him. He told himself she would when she was ready.

And so early on the morning of April 14th they lay in bed, listening to the dull roar of the ocean and seagull calls, each all too aware of what day it was.

"Jack?" Rose said, looking over at him. His eyes were closed. "Are you awake?" She touched his shoulder.

"Yeah." He opened his eyes. "I was kind of trying not to be."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've been awake for a long time."

"Me too….Do you know what day it is?"

Jack nodded. "I know. I can't sleep for thinking about it."

"I can't believe it's been a whole year," Rose said incredulously.

"Me either. It almost seems like it was just yesterday."

"Do you ever think about it?" Rose asked, turning over onto her side.

"Sometimes…I'll see or hear something and it's almost like I'm still there."

"I dream about it."

"I do that too."

They looked at each other silently for a moment, not sure what else to say. The air had grown heavy around them. Rose wanted to tell him about the times she woke up terrified, her heart racing and sure he was dead, only to realize she was curled up in his arms. What she didn't know was that she didn't have to tell him. He already knew. He did it too.

The rest of the day passed quickly. They didn't talk about _Titanic_ again. Jack painted in the afternoon and Rose wrote. After dinner Jack headed back outside, hoping to capture the sunset. He was deeply engrossed in his painting when he heard a quiet, "Hello, Jack."

He turned around to see a smiling Rose. Her hair was pulled back from her face but a few curls had managed to escape.

"Wha—"

"I changed my mind."

Jack smiled. _I knew this seemed familiar,_ he thought.

"I don't know how to make you fly this time," he said.

Rose stepped forward and turned him around so he was facing the sunset. "You always make me fly," she whispered into his ear. Her arms snaked around his middle. "Come Josephine, my flying machine," she sang. Jack reached down and took her hands. Spreading their arms out he sang the rest, "Going up she goes, up she goes." He laced his fingers through hers. Turning his head to face her he bent in to kiss her.

Due to their differing heights and difference in position, it was a bit more awkward this time around.

Rose giggled. "I should have thought this through more."

Jack shushed her.


	61. Chapter 61

AN: This one will be a bit on the M side.

Eventually they went back inside. "I'm sorry about making you miss that sunset," Rose said. "Somehow I think it'll come around again," Jack grinned. "And I like your idea for how to spend that time better than mine."

"Maybe you'll like my next idea," Rose said, kissing him.

Jack pulled her closer. "I'm liking it so far."

"Oh no." Rose pulled away.

"No?" Jack was confused.

"No," Rose said again. "Not yet."

Jack watched her disappear into the bedroom, his curiosity—among other things—aroused.

"Mr. Dawson," she said haughtily, stepping into the doorway, clad in only a green satin robe and her pearls.

"Yes?" Jack answered, eager to play along with whatever game she had devised.

"I believer there's something you can do for me."

"Oh is there?"

Rose held out her hand. In her palm lay a dime.

"I see," he said. He stepped forward and took the dime.

"Come along," Rose commanded, leading him into the bedroom. She had already set up his supplies. There was an easel and canvas and paint—as well as his sketch paper and pencils.

"Do I choose?" he asked.

She nodded. "I want you to do this the way you like best." She took a step back and let the robe fall to the floor. Jack felt his knees weaken. Seeing her body affected him the same way every time.

"Lie down on the bed," he said quietly.

Rose smiled. "Are you sure it's a bed this time?"

"Oh I'm sure."

The force of his look made Rose shiver slightly. She knew what was behind it—and she liked it. She lay down as he picked up a pencil and piece of paper. He sat down in a chair across from her.

"Okay," he said and proceeded to pose her.

Some time later Rose said teasingly, "You're not blushing this time. Could it be that I have become as boring as a landscape?"

"I've never thought about a landscape what I'm thinking about you right now," Jack said.

This time Rose blushed.

"And what would that be?" she asked.

"Oh no, I'm not telling. You'll just have to wait and see."

It seemed to Rose that an eternity passed before he looked up from the paper and said, "Finished." She sighed in relief. She didn't think she could have taken his eyes on her for another second without giving up the whole thing and going over to him. _Was it this bad last time?_ she thought.

"Was that a sigh?" he asked, laying the drawing aside. "That sounded almost relieved." He stood over her. "This was your idea, you know."

"Well, I have a new idea," Rose said. She reached up and ran a hand along his thigh.

Jack shuddered. "So do I." He fell onto the bed beside her. She grabbed him, pulling him onto her as his mouth found hers. It felt like his hands were touching every inch of her body. Rose groaned and wrapped her legs around his hips.

"I'm overdressed, don't you think?" he gasped between kisses.

"Then do something about it," Rose ordered. "Quickly."


	62. Chapter 62

Three days later Rose woke up to find Jack gone. His shoes were missing but his art supplies were still there. She knew what he _wasn't_ doing, but that still left a million other things he _could_ be doing. Puzzled, Rose got out of bed and went about her normal morning routine. She showered and dressed and fixed herself breakfast. As she finished up her cup of coffee, she heard the sound of Jack's key in the lock. A moment later he walked into the kitchen, a grin on his face.

"There's my girl," he said, kissing her hair.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Taking care of some things." He sat down and began buttering a slice of toast.

"What?" Rose hoped she didn't sound paranoid or like she didn't trust him.

"You'll see," he assured her. "Tonight all will be revealed."

Rose leaned back in her chair. They were going into their second year together and she still wasn't any good at figuring out his surprises. Nor was she any more adept at anticipating them.

_What could it be?_ she wondered. And then it hit her.

"I have something I need to take care of today too," she said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. But you can't know about it yet."

_Mostly because I don't know what it'll be yet_, she thought. How could she have forgotten? _Well, you remember now, that's all that matters._

After breakfast Rose left. She wandered the streets, hoping inspiration would strike her. She had just about given up when suddenly it hit her. The perfect thing.

She made it home by mid-afternoon. "Whatcha got?" Jack asked, eying the package in her hands.

"You'll see,' she said, "when I can see what you did."

"Fair enough." Jack turned his attention back to the book he was reading.

"You're not even a little more curious than that?" Rose baited. She wanted so badly to know what he had been up to.

"Oh I am, but it's not time for mine yet, so…" He shrugged.

"When will it be?" Rose asked, trying to hide her own curiosity.

"What time is it now?"

Rose checked her watch. "Three."

"You've got about four more hours then."

Around six o'clock Rose's attention was ripped from the book she was reading by the sight of a very well-dressed Jack leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Waiting for you."

Rose wasn't sure what to say. "Oh," was all that came out.

Jack smiled. Already she was speechless. Mission accomplished.

Meanwhile, Rose was rushing to get dressed. She didn't know what he had up his sleeve, but by the look of things she was going to like it. _But you like everything he does_, she reminded herself.

"Do I have to close my eyes this time?" she asked as they set out. For a moment Jack considered making her, but in the end he shook his head. "Not this time," he said. "Not unless you want to."

"I think "d prefer to see where we're going," she replied. "But I wouldn't mind having your hand all the same."

Rose was surprised when they ended up on the pier, though, in hindsight she knew she shouldn't have been. "Jack!" she cried. "It's—you—you remembered!"

"Of course I remembered," he laughed. "I said we'd do it."

Rose looked up at him. Love shone in her eyes. "I didn't want to believe you when you said it because then it was just an impossible dream."

"Well, it isn't anymore." He put an arm around her. "It's real—and it always will be."

"Not to spoil the moment, but why did you have us get all dressed up?" she asked.

"To throw you off."

And so they rode the rollercoaster a total of ten times. It took four times for Jack to throw up and another six before Rose finally did. He was beyond relieved when her iron stomach finally gave out.

"_You're_ the one who said we would ride the rollercoaster until we threw up," she reminded him as they walked along the beach, beers in hand.

"I know. I just didn't think you'd hold me to it," Jack laughed.

"So this is what you were doing this morning, huh?"

"Some of it. Not all."

"There's more?" Rose asked incredulously. What else could there be?"

"Looks like you forgot something after all," he said as they came upon a man with a horse.

Rose gasped as she remembered. "Are we really?"

"Oh yes," he said, taking her hand to help her on. She hesitated before swinging her leg over the side. "Good," he said. "I didn't have to teach you how after all."

"You still might have to."

Jack climbed on behind her. He put the reins in her hands and his hands over hers. "You okay?"

"I've ridden a horse before, Jack. Just not like this."

"Too much?"

"No. Just different is all. But I like it."

They rode down the beach, the light from the full moon shining down on them. Rose couldn't believe she was really doing—had done—everything they'd said they would. Neither could Jack. Even as he'd said it, he'd told himself not to believe it.

Rose sighed happily. "I never thought this would happen," she said.

"Me either."

"This time last year—or well, about a week ago this time last year," she corrected herself, "I didn't expect to have much happiness in life. I didn't even want to stay alive all that much."

Jack kissed her cheek. "I wish you'd never felt that way, but…" he wasn't sure how best to say what came next.

"I'm thankful for it," Rose said, as if she'd read his mind. "If I hadn't, I would never have met you." She turned her head so she could see him. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you, Rose."

"My turn," Rose said when they returned home. She hurried into the bedroom and came back with the package from earlier that day and another one.

"What is this?" Jack asked, taking them.

"Open it!"

Inside the first one he found a leather portfolio with a card. It said: _For those drawings you want to keep separate from the rest._ He chuckled to himself. He knew exactly what she meant. In the other he found a notebook.

"Isn't this yours?" he asked, confused.

Rose nodded.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"I want to let you read it," she said slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've shared so many things with you, and I think it's time I shared this."

"It's the best gift I've ever gotten," Jack said.


	63. Chapter 63

In July they found themselves back East again. Jack was getting a show at an important gallery in Philadelphia, and as much as Rose dreaded going back there, she was bursting with pride about Jack's accomplishments. He, on the other hand, kept encouraging her to do more with her own gifts. He'd sat down and read her notebook the morning after she gave it to him.

"What do you think?" she had asked nervously.

"I think it's incredible.". It was filled with essays. Essays about human nature, class, love, economic theories—everything. There were beginnings of stories and diary entries—some of those entries Jack hoped no-one else ever got to read. "I think you should keep writing," he'd said. "Seriously."

And she had. She's gotten a new notebook and was working on filling it. She'd continued reading voraciously, and Jack knew it wasn't the most popular thing for a woman to be, but he delighted in her intelligence.

And so they found themselves wandering through a small art gallery a few days before Jack's show opened. It wasn't the same one he was going to be shown in, and part of him was glad. He loved the success, but really at that moment all he wanted was to enjoy someone else's creation. He and Rose wandered away from each other—he to look at one thing and she at another—when he found himself standing next to a well-dressed, older man.

"Extraordinary, isn't it?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. And soon they found themselves deep in conversation. Rose came over after a few minutes. "You two looked so excited I almost didn't want to come over," she said.

"Oh, this is my wife Rose," Jack said. "Wait, I just realized—we never introduced ourselves."

"I'm Thomas Burnham," the man said, extending his hand.

"Jack Dawson."

"Now, where have I…" A look of recognition crossed his face. "The artist?"

"Yeah," Jack said. "That would be me."

"I must say your work is—" Just then a well-dressed older woman walked up. Jack and Rose stared at her in shock. She stared back at them, equally shocked.

"Oh darling, you'll never believe who I just met," Thomas said, gesturing toward Jack and Rose. "Remember that artist I was telling you about?"

Ruth thought she was going to be sick. "Which one?" she asked pleasantly, her real feelings hidden. "You tell me about so many…Oh!" she exclaimed, as if she had just noticed Jack and Rose.

"What is it?" Thomas asked.

"I just didn't expect to see you here," Ruth said, looking straight at them and sounding as if she had never been more excited before in her life.

"Us?" Jack wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like it.

"Of course you!" Ruth cried, enveloping him in a hug. Jack looked at Rose, hoping she could tell him what to do. She stared back at him, clueless.

"And you!" Ruth hugged Rose as well.

"I see you already know them," Thomas said.

"Oh yes. This is my daughter, Rose and her husband Jack. Didn't I tell you about them?"

Actually, she hadn't told him very much about her daughter, and at that moment Ruth thanked God she hadn't told him Rose was dead.

"Well, I never!" Thomas beamed. "I can't believe when I mentioned how much I admire Jack's work _you_ never mentioned he was married to your daughter!"

"I'm not much for boasting, you know."

Jack and Rose just stared at her.

"Why don't you two come to dinner with us?" Thomas suggested.

"Oh no, we couldn't," Rose said.

"What do you mean you couldn't? You're family—and more than that, you're family I haven't met you. Not to mention all the things I want to ask Jack about his work."

In spite of everything that was going on, Jack felt good about the compliment.

Ruth opened her mouth to protest, but before she could Thomas was sweeping them all out the door and onto the street. He hailed a taxi and the four of them piled into it before any of them knew what was happening. It was a tense ride, and little was said beyond Jack and Thomas's art talk. Fortunately, they were between Rose and Ruth.

Soon they found themselves settled at a table in a restaurant that only one out of the four of them knew the name of. The other three were too stunned to process much.

"So Rose," Thomas said, "how did you and Jack meet?"

Rose hesitated before answering. "We met while traveling."

"Were you there?" he asked, looking at Ruth.

"Yes," she said tensely.

"Oh, she was very supportive of our relationship," Jack said. "Weren't you?"

Ruth glared at him. "Well, some things are just mean tot be," she said.

Jack grinned. "I agree. So, how did the two of you meet?"

"That's a long story," Thomas said. "We actually met when we were very young—probably around your ages. I was a friend of a cousin of Ruth's and we met at a party of the holidays. It was love at first sight—on my part at least." He sighed. "Unfortunately, she wouldn't hear of it."

"Why not?" Rose asked, finding herself unexpectedly interested.

"I'm afraid I wasn't quite…financially secure enough for your mother, my dear. Not then at least," he said with a chuckle. Ruth looked as though she might kill the next person who spoke.

"Well, isn't that interesting," Rose said. "I never knew that." She looked pointedly at her mother. "And so you chose my father over him because he had more money?"

"It was more complicated than that," Ruth said. "There were a lot of things to consider."

"I don't care what you considered back then," Thomas said. "I'm just glad I finally got you to marry me now."

"That's nice," Jack said. "It's nice that things worked out so well for you." He shot Ruth a meaningful look. "You know, some mothers would have pressured their daughters into making the same choice they made, but not this one. No, she realized what a mistake that would be, let me tell you."

"Good to see you learned a bit, dear," Thomas said, squeezing Ruth's shoulder.


	64. Chapter 64

"I suppose I did," Ruth said. "I learned that trying to protect your child gets you nowhere." She laughed to deflect the bitterness of her statement.

"I think that just depends on what you try to protect her from," Jack said, taking Rose's hand.

"You sound as if you know what that should be," Ruth said.

"I think I have a pretty good idea."

"So, Rose," Thomas said, hoping break some of the tension that was building. "What do you do while your husband here is creating future masterpieces?"

"I write and I study," Rose said simply.

"Really? What about?" Thomas asked.

"Well, a lot of things, but mostly I'm interested in politics and philosophy and economics."

He looked impressed. "That's quite a list you've got there. Are you any good?"

"She's very talented," Jack said, answering before she could.

"You think so?" Ruth asked in a voice that doubted she believed he could even read.

"Yes, _I_ think so."

"Do you have any plans for what you write, Rose?" Thomas asked.

"Not really. I don't think I know nearly enough to begin putting my thoughts out there, but I hope to eventually. In fact I…I'd like to go to a university at some point." She looked at Jack, sorry she hadn't said something to him sooner.

"And how would you feel about that?" Thomas asked Jack.

"I'd love it," he answered, looking at Rose.

"You don't think it would ruin her as a woman—as a wife?" Ruth asked.

"No," Jack said emphatically. "I think if anything, it would make her better. She has such a wonderful mind. How could letting it grow be a bad thing? I know a lot of men don't feel this way, but I do." He squeezed Rose's hand. "Thank you," she said with her eyes. "Always," he said back.

Somehow they managed to get through the rest of the meal without any major incidents. All seemed as though it would be well until at the very end when Thomas asked where they were staying.

"Oh, we just got in today," Jack said. "We haven't quite settled that yet."

Thomas stated at them. "Haven't settled it yet?"

"No, we prefer to just..well, take things as they come," Rose said.

Ruth snorted quietly.

"Can't argue with that. I was the same way myself when I was your age," he said. "But I'm settling the issue of where you're staying while you're here—with us. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Oh no, we couldn't," Jack protested.

"He's right," Rose added.

"I said I wouldn't take no for an answer, and besides, I'm sure Ruthie here wants to spend some time with you." Had she noticed the expression on his wife's face, he might have picked up on the fact that spending time with Jack and Rose was the last thing she wanted to do. If asked, she mostly likely would have said she'd rather shove bamboo under her fingernails. She didn't argue though. It would have just caused a scene, and she supposed she should have expected something like this to happen, what with the way she had greeted them. _You had to_, she reminded herself. _What would he have thought if they had told the truth? This way there was at least a chance they would play along._ And so far they had, but she knew she couldn't be certain they would continue to do so. _Best to just keep quiet and hope this ends quickly. _

About half an hour later Jack and Rose found themselves following Thomas and Ruth's cab. Rose was at the wheel, gripping it so hard her knuckles were white. Jack had almost offered to drive, but before he could she shot him a look that told him not to bother. "Driving relaxes me," she'd said in answer to his unasked question. He thought it was best to leave it at that.

It wasn't long before they came to a three-story, red-brick house that could only be described as "modestly wealthy." Rose took a deep breath and looked at Jack. Their eyes met. "It'll be okay," he said reassuringly. "I don't think so," she replied. "I just do not see this ending well." And with that she climbed out of the car. Jack sighed. Deep down he agreed with her.

A maid showed them to their room. It had an attached bathroom and was furnished with French antiques. "He may not have had money when he met your mother, but he sure has some now," Jack said, his eyes wandering over the finery around them. "I wonder how he got it," Rose said. "I wonder how they got together again," Jack said.

Rose set her bag down on the bed and began to unpack. "Oh I'm sure when she got desperate enough she went looking for him," she said, shaking out a dress.

"You really think so?"

She nodded. "I'm willing to be something like that happened. My mother doesn't keep people around unless they can be of some use to her."

"That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Maybe..but it's true. You heard what he said, she only married my father because he was—what was it?—'more financially secure'."

"Yeah, I know, but she was doing what she thought was best."

"Are you saying I should have married Cal instead of you?"

"No!" Jack exclaimed, taken aback by the new direction the conversation was taking. "I just don't think you can compare the two of you, that's all. You had similar situations, but you chose differently. You're so different from her, and it's that differentness that I love." He hugged her from behind. "I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't be quite so harsh. You could have ended up just like her—and we don't know what she was like at your age. Maybe she just wasn't as strong as you."

Rose sighed. "You're right—as always. It's just so hard not to judge her with everything that's happened."

"I know, it's hard for me too."

"In a strange way, it's like he's her version of you," Rose said with a small smile.

"So does that mean your father was her version of Cal?"

"I suppose so."

"What was her like, your father?"

"I don't really know," Rose said slowly. "We didn't spend a lot of time together. He was always too busy or trying to relax or just not around. I think he loved me..as much as he could, but I always got the feeling he would have rather had a son…especially when I said or did something that had to do with wanting to study or do something in life. He would just look at me and shake his head. I know he was thinking I should have been a boy."

"Well, I'm glad you weren't a boy," Jack said, lightly kissing her neck.

"Me too," Rose laughed.

"We should probably go downstairs, shouldn't we?" Jack asked a moment later.

"Probably. If we don't they'll come get us."

Jack offered her his hand. "Shall we jump then?"

"Sure you couldn't just jump by yourself?"

"Oh no, if I go in you have to come in after me."

"I knew you'd say that," Rose said as they stepped into the hallway.


	65. Chapter 65

AN: It's short but I wanted to get something posted while I could. And thanks to all the reviewers! Wow, I never thought people would like the story so much.

They crept down the stairs. It seemed best to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. At the bottom were two heavy, oak doors—one on the left and another on the right. Directly ahead was a long hallway. The door on the left was closed, but the door on the right was open just enough so they could see into the next room. It looked like a sitting room or parlor. There was a fireplace along the middle wall and delicate, beautifully upholstered couches facing each other in front of it. Paintings adorned the rest of the room. They stepped inside.

Jack let out a low whistle. "Right there with you," Rose said as her eyes circled the room. "Isn't that.." He hurried across the room to examine one of the paintings. "It is," he said, slightly awestruck.

"What?" She joined him. "Oh…it's—"

"Almost exactly the one you had."

A shadow crossed Rose's face. "I wish I still had it."

They studied the water lilies, each lost in their own thoughts—Jack wishing he had half as much talent as Monet and Rose just wishing she could figure out how they'd gotten to their current situation.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

They whirled around to see Thomas and Ruth standing in the door way. "Yes," Rose answered, avoiding her mother's stare. "I've always thought he was extraordinary."

"I wish I could do what he does," Jack said, studying the painting again.

"What you do is a bit different, I think," Thomas said, taking a seat on one of the couches. He gestured for the others to do so. Ruth sat stiffly beside him. Jack and Rose settled in on the other side.

"See, what I think you do," he continued, "is take what's inside and bring it out. You have an eye for what goes on under the surface of things."

"I've been told that," Jack said.

"By me!" Rose said, shoving him playfully.

"Hey, I didn't say by who!" he laughed.

Ruth watched their exchange disgustedly. Even now she didn't like seeing together. "So, do you still make a habit of sleeping under bridges, Mr. Dawson?" she asked, the picture of politeness.

Rose started to retort but she only got as far as "Moth—" before Jack stopped her. "I think she deserves to know how well we're doing, don't you?" he asked, looking from Rose to Ruth. "Well—yes, you're right," Rose said, suddenly understanding what he was doing.

"Oh, are you only partially homeless now?" Ruth asked. \

"I wouldn't call it that," Jack said evenly.

"What would you call it when someone has no home all or part of the time then?"

"We have homes, just not permanent ones."

"That's the way we want it," Rose added. "It's our choice."

"You wouldn't believe how much money we have now," he said.

Ruth's eyes widened in disbelief. "_You_?"

Jack nodded. "Me," he said with a smile.


	66. Chapter 66

Ruth didn't say much after that. She watched the other three carry on the conversation, ignoring any attempts to draw back in. Jack's revelation had stunned her. She'd heard the way they were talking about him, as if he were somehow important, but she'd never imagined he actually had _money_ now. Occasionally his eyes would land on her for a moment. She'd stare back at him, unable to even form her usual disgusted glare. She hated him so much more now, and it was ironic because the very thing that caused her to dislike him in the beginning was now gone.

He_ has money_. It kept repeating in her head like a mantra. That might not have been so bad if he had actually been _using_ it. But no, they weren't doing anything at all. They hadn't said what, exactly, they were doing but she was certain it was little more than traipsing around the country like a pair of gypsies.

And she'd wanted so much for Rose.

It seemed to Ruth the evening ended very quickly. No sooner had they sat down then they were standing back up again and heading off to bed.

"Well, that was…" Rose said once they were alone in their room.

"Yeah…" Jack began removing his shoes. "I'm not really sure what that was."

"You and my mother looked like you were going to kill each other at one point," Rose said a few minutes later as they climbed into bed. "I seem to recall you looking a bit testy yourself," he replied. She snuggled up against him. "Maybe we should just say my mother does not bring out the best in us."

"You're not wrong." He kissed her. She deepened it. "Are you trying to tell me something?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe."

"You do realize your mother is somewhere in this house, right? Any idea what she'd do if she knew what you were up to?" he teased.

Rose jumped up. "Oh God, you're right! What is wrong with me?" she asked, as if repulsed by herself. \"Nothing!" he sat up and put an arm around her. "Oh no, honey, no, I was just…teasing you—and badly."

"I never realized how much this still bothers me," she said.

"What? Your mother?"

"I know how much she bothers me." Rose laughed humourlessly. "I just thought I'd gotten over all my sexual issues."

"You had issues?" Jack looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

"You know I had issues," she said.

"Yeah, I know…but you never seemed to let them affect you all that much. I never thought they were that bad."

"Really?' She looked somewhat relieved.

"Really. I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much this was bothering you. What can I do?"

"Oh it wasn't until you mentioned my mother…it—it's fine, really. I don't know why being around her does this to me."

"It's understandable. You two do not have the best history."

"Neither do you two," Rose said, her face breaking into a smile, "Did you see her face when you said 'Do you know how much money we have?'" She laughed. "It was amazing!" Jack laughed with her. "Yeah, that was kind of a good moment for me."

Once the laughter subsided Rose said, "You know I never cared if you ever made any money, don't you?"

"I know." Jack kissed her again. "But I'm glad I did. For both of us."

She lay back as his lips began to travel down, pushing everything else out of her mind.

"How much do we have?" she asked, some time later.

"I'm beginning to doubt whether I did that right," is all he said.


	67. Chapter 67

AN: ML, thanks, as always for your great critcism. I'm trying really hard to give all of them at least _some_ measure of depth. Thanks for the heads up about the possible anarchronisms. I've been looking for ways to incorporate the way I see them--a very sexual couple--with the way I think Rose would likely be--somewhat repressed and/or basically freaked out at times by it all. And a cunnilingus reference is probably an anarchonism all by itself no matter how I put it.

Jack woke up at dawn the next morning. He knew there was no hope of getting back to sleep the second his eyes opened. He envied Rose's ability to stay asleep all day if she so chose for a moment before sliding out of bed and going in search of some clothes. He didn't see anyone else up as he made his way downstairs. With nothing else to do he wandered into the sitting room from the night before. As he gazed at the extensive collection that adorned the walls, his desire to sleep past daybreak was forgotten.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the sound of a door closing and a throat clearing. He turned around to see Ruth. Her expression was unreadable.

_This is gonna be..interesting,_ he thought. _Just..us…_"Came to do some early morning veiled insults?" he asked cheerfully.

She just stared at him. "No. That's not what I had in mind." She gestured for him to sit. He eyed her warily for a moment before sitting down across from her. "What did you have in mind then?" His curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Well, I did some thinking last night and…I wanted to say that maybe I was…wrong about some things."

"Uh-huh. Go on."

"You're not making this any easier for me," she said petulantly.

"Don't see why I should." He sat back and waited to hear what else she had to say.

"Maybe I judged you too quickly. Maybe I wasn't looking at the big picture."

"Can't argue with that." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But what I want to know is, did this sudden change of heart happen before or after you found out I had moved up in the world?"

Ruth's face reddened. "How dare you ask such a thing!

"I thought so."

Ruth stood up. "I should have expected as much from--from _you_," she snarled. Jack jumped to his feet. "See, that's it. That's why I don't believe you. You come in and start talking about how wrong you were, and then you go and say something like that."

"What do you expect when you question my motives?" she snapped.

"How can I not? Give me one reason to trust anything you say."

Ruth was stumped. What's more, he was right. She hadn't decided she had been wrong all along. However, she had decided it would be best to cultivate a relationship with the two of them. She'd been so sure he would be the easy one to convince. He was always so calm and amiable, though "weak" was the word she had used most often to describe him. Now here he was proving her wrong--for real.

"I understood when I thought you were worried about Rose's future. I understood when I thought you did the things you did because you wanted her to have the best life she could--and the life you were pushing her into, you believed, was the best possible. I understood why you hated me--then. What I don't understand is why you still do--why you hate seem to hate _her_ now. Maybe I had nothing when she met me, but that's changed."

"And it's all well and good that you've managed to scrape together a few pennies, but what are you actually doing with them? If you can do so much now why are you still letting her live like a tramp?"

"That's what she wants," Jack said, forcing himself to remain calm. "If she said she wanted to live on the moon I'd find a way to get her there. She knows that."

"But she doesn't know what the world can be like. _You_ do. You shouldn't be encouraging her in these impossible ideas of hers."

"Yeah, I do know what the world can be like, and so does she. She is so much stronger than you give her credit for, but when she can't be, when there's something that's just too much for her, I'll be there to take care of her. And as for her ideas, what's so impossible about them? Maybe what she wants to do is unconventional, but so is our entire relationship. There's no way I couldn't support her."

Ruth just shook her head. "You're both so..."

"Foolish?" Jack offered.

"Something like that."

"I don't care how you feel about me, but don't make her suffer because of it."

Ruth didn't respond. She just walked toward the door. Hand on the knob, she turned to him. "Maybe you're not completely wrong, but that doesn't mean I think you're right either."

"I can accept that."

"And exactly how much money do you have?"

Jack laughed. "I should have known that was coming."

"Seriously. How much?" Ruth persisted.

"I wasn't aware you needed to know that," he said, stepping past her.

He met Rose at the top of the stairs. "I shouldn't be suprised anymore when I wake up and find you gone," she said.

"I guess I do kind of make a habit of it," he said sheepishly.

"Just promise me you'll leave a note if you're not coming back."

"How about if I promise to never not come back instead?"

"I guess I can live with that," Rose said, feigning disappointment.

"Oh well, if you'd prefer..." he turned and started back down the stairs.

Rose rolled her eyes but caught up with him anyway.

"Thought you didn't much care if I left?" he asked as she slipped her hand into his.

"I changed my mind."

Jack noticed Ruth was nowhere in sight when they passed the sitting room. No-one else was around either. It was almost like being in an exquisitely decorated tomb. They hurried down the hallway, hoping to find signs of life at the end. They came to a door that led out to a seemingly endless garden. Stone paths formed a maze through it. A majestic willow tree stood at the center.

"It's so beautiful," Rose gasped.

"It's almost enough to convert me to landscapes," Jack said.

"Really?"

"No...but I do want to do something with this..." He looked around, taking it all in. His gaze settled on the tree. "Rose, how are your tree climbing skills?"


	68. Chapter 68

"What?" Rose asked.

"Your tree climbing skills," Jack said. "How are they?"

"I--I don't have any," she said.

"I should have known that." He looked from her to the tree and then back to her again. "It's not hard. Come on." He took her hand and began walking toward the tree. She tried to pull him back. "Jack no!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ten minutes later she found herself perched on a branch, gripping it so tightly her knuckles were white. "Why did I let you drag me up here?" she asked, smiling in spite of herself.

Jack shrugged. He leaned casually against the tree, feeling no need to hold onto anything. "Guess I just have a gift," he grinned.

"If I fall out of this tree--"

"You won't fall," he said soothingly. "You're fine. Just relax. We're not even that high up."

Rose took a deep breath and loosened her grip on the branch. A cool breeze blew her hair back. "Maybe this isn't so bad," she said.

"I can't believe how much you didn't do as a child," Jack said.

"Believe it."

"You know, maybe we've been going about this all wrong. Instead of exploring the world, maybe we should just stick to exploring all the childhood experiences you never had."

Rose laughed. "Oh yes, let's!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Okay. We'll do it."

"What's next then?"

"Well, have you ever swung into a lake on a rope?"

She gave him a "What do you think?" look.

"Then we're doing that next, but first.." Jack leaned forward and jumped out of the tree. "There's something else I wanna do," he said, looking up at her.

"What? Trap me up here?"

"No! I'll get you down in a minute. Just hang on a sec," he called as he ran back into the house. "Not really sure what else I can do," Rose said to herself after he was gone.

"Haven't seen either of them today," Thomas remarked to Ruth as they strolled through the garden. It had two entrances. They had used the one on the other side. "Wonder what they're up to?" "It could be anything," Ruth said, not entirely unkindly. As they came closer to the tree they began to hear voices. "That's probably them now," he said. Once they got a little closer they could see Jack standing beneath the tree, looking up at Rose. "What does he have her doing now?" Ruth asked. Thomas shushed her. "Just watch for a moment."

"Let me see it!"

Jack shook his head. "You have to come down first."

"It's of _me_!"

"Doesn't matter. Come down if you want to see it."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, you could climb down."

"I'm not sure I can," she said nervously.

"You could jump."

"It's an awfully long way to fall."

"I'll catch you."

"Is there a third option?"

No answer. She looked down and saw he had disappeared. "Jack?" she called. "Right here," he said, suddenly appearing at her elbow. "How did--oh, nevermind," she said. "Still want that third option?" he asked. "What is it?"

Thomas and Ruth watched Jack climb out of tree with Rose on his back. "There really is something wrong with them," Ruth said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't say that," Thomas said. "We were like that once--or we could have been at least." She chose not to respond. They made their way over to Jack and Rose, who were laughing hysterically.

"Good morning," Thomas said cheerfully.

"How long have you been there?" Rose asked, embarrassed they hadn't noticed them before. "Oh, not that long," he said. "Long enough," Ruth said. Jack shot her a look. "You looked like you were enjoying yourselves," she added hastily.

"We were," Jack smiled at him.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Thomas asked.

"I forgot all about it," Rose said, "what with the early morning tree adventures." "Actually, so did I," Jack added.

"Well, we haven't had anything either, so why don't you come with us?" Thomas suggested.

Rose watched her mother's face for signs of displeasure but, much to her surprise, saw none. Jack was watching as well and was pleased when her mouth didn't form its usual grimace. "Sure," he said.


	69. Chapter 69

Rose was at a loss to explain the sudden change in her mother. During breakfast she hadn't thrown any veiled insults at Jack and there were a few moments when it seemed like she was actually trying to be pleasant. Rose wasn't sure how she felt about the situation. Seeing her mother as a simple enemy was much easier than trying to see her as a whole person. She was still puzzling over it on a walk with Jack later that afternoon.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, hoping to draw her out of the daze she'd been in most of the day.

"Nothing," she said dismissively.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Want to talk about it?"

"It's stupid really, but did you notice anything different about my mother this morning?"

"Like how?"

"Well, there's the fact that she wasn't finding some way to attack you every few seconds."

"Come to think of it, I did notice a lack of politely delivered insults."

"You don't think that's strange?"

"It's different, I'm not sayin it isn't."

"I just can't figure out why. What's the reason for the sudden change?"

"Maybe she's just trying to reduce some of the tension, you know?"

"Maybe." Rose didn't sound convinced.

"Well, since you brought her up, there is something I wanted to ask you about," Jack said.

"About my mother?" Rose asked, confused.

"No, about something she said. Remember last night when she was talking about how we don't have a home?"

"Yes."

"That was something I'd actually been meaning to bring up at some point anyway, and since she already did I might as well. We _don't _have a home, and right now that's okay..but we'll want one eventually."

"Jack, what are you trying to say exactly?"

"Just that it might be nice to have a place we know we can go back to, you know? So when we get tired of wandering there'll be someplace that's just ours."

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Awhile now actually," he admitted. "I just wasn't sure how to bring it up before."

Rose considered his words. "Where would it be?" she asked.

"Where do you want it to be?"

Disbelief shone in her eyes. "I can decide?"

"If you want to. I don't care where I am as long as I'm with you, and I want you to be happy."

Rose shook her head and smiled. "We're in a bit of a bind then because I feel the same way."

"Oh whatever will we do," Jack said throwing his head back and looking up at the sky. Despite his dramatic gesture he wore a grin. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he added. "But it couldn't hurt to think about it."

"So when you said it was up to me, did you actually mean I could choose anywhere?"

Jack nodded. "Meant just that."

They lapsed into silence until Rose asked, "And when you told my mother she wouldn't believe how much money we have, how much were you talking about exactly?"

"Didn't we already talk about this?"

"If by 'talk about' you mean I asked and you used that pretty mouth of yours to distract me--" Jack couldn't stop himself from blushing slightly. "--then yes, we talked about it."

"Okay, I see your point. But why the sudden interest?"

"You brought it up," she said simply. "And then you wouldn't talk about it again."

He frowned."To be honest I only brought it up to upset your mother. Talking about it makes me uncomfortable for some reason."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to--"

"No," he cut her off. "You have a right to know, and it shouldn't make me feel like that anyway. I earned it, didn't I?" _Well, part of it_, he thought. He'd put Cal's money into the same account as he was putting the money he was making, and he'd put the Heart of the Ocean into a safety deposit box. It seemed like the best thing. Too much time had passed for him to be able to explain to Rose why he hadn't told her about it in the first place, and fortunately she'd either forgotten or decided not to ask where the money for her ring and wedding dress had come from.

"I can't give you a number," he continued, "but I can say we don't have to worry about anything. And even if I never sell another painting there's a good chance we still won't have to worry about anything."


	70. Chapter 70

The next day and a half were uneventful save for Ruth's continued attempts to refrain from criticizing everything around her. At one point Jack caught her watching him and Rose together and he couldn't be sure but it looked like she just might have been on the verge of a very small smile.

Finally it was time for Jack's opening. All four of them were going, but Rose insisted--much to Jack's relief--that they travel separately. "Thought you could use a few minutes of peace," she said, starting the car.

"Thanks."

Jack sucked in his breath as they walked in. "That is a lot of people," he said. Rose squeezed his hand. "This one will end better than the last one," she said. "Trust me."

Soon Jack was surrounded by people, all of whom couldn't stop talking about how amazing he was. Rose stood by his side and smiled. It always made her happy when someone else saw his gift, though she wondered sometimes if she was the only one who knew it was just one of many.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite couple!" a loud, cheerful voice said.

Jack broke into a grin. "Molly!"

"Yes, the one and only," she said, enveloping Jack and then Rose in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" Rose asked.

"Not being the recipient of an invitation of either of yours," Molly said.

"We never thought to--" Jack began.

Molly dismissed his explanation with a wave of her hand. "It doesn't matter. I've actually been reading about you for some time now. You're really making a name for yourself, Jack."

Jack ducked his head. "I guess you could say that."

"Well, keep it up, whatever you want to call it," Molly ordered.

An hour later Jack was not only convinced that he had spoken to every person on the Earth but that they had all gotten together and agreed to only ask him the same five questions over and over. He'd had enough.

"Rose, come on," he said quietly. She gave him a questioning look but didn't resist when he begn leading her toward the door. On the way out he grabbed a bottle of champagne and tucked it under his arm. For all the fuss about him no-one noticed them leave.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they were in the hall. He looked around for the door marked "Roof." "To see the stars," he said.

"Do you see that one?" Rose pointed at the sky. They lay on their backs, the bottle between them. "I see it," Jack answered. "Do you see this one?" He pointed to another cluster of stars. "I see it," she said. She took a swig from the bottle and passed it to him.

"Jack, are you happy?"

"What? Of course I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You didn't look happy tonight..and if you had been, why are we up here when the whole thing that's going on down there is about you?"

"I wouldn't call what I felt down there unhappiness. I just felt...overwhelmed...uncomfortable. I don't see why something I've always done is suddenly so exciting to all these people. I know you think I have a gift, and I guess maybe I do but sometimes...."

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes I get tired of talking about it, you know? It's like there's this one thing I'm really good at, and I never wanted to do anything else..but now it's like that's all anyone ever expects me to do. I can only do one thing, and that one thing is all anyone is interested in."

Rose moved closer to him. She laid her face against his. "I don't feel that way about you," she said. "I just want you to do what makes you happy. If this doesn't make you happy--"

"Part of it does, that's the problem. I love the feeling I get when I see someone look at one of my paintings or drawings and their eyes light up as though they were looking at one of Monet's or some other genius. The only other time I feel like that is..." He searched for the words. "The way you look at me sometimes makes me feel that way." He paused. "And it makes me happy that I can take care of us with something I love doing. I just wish I could avoid everything that goes along with it."

"You want the security but you don't want to sacrifice the peace," Rose said.

"Yeah, something like that. I don't think I can get much more reclusive than I already am though," he said. He sighed. "It's stupid really. I should just be grateful for what I have."

"It isn't stupid," Rose said. "You deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else." She climbed to her feet and offered him her hand. "Come on." He gave her a puzzled look. "Come on," she repeated.

"And where are we going?"

"First to get some coffee because my head is starting to spin. After that, it's your call."

He took her hand and smiled. "We're finding a lake."


	71. Chapter 71

AN: Yes, I have pretty much kept them in the south. That's where I live so it's the part of the country I know best. Besides, there are more than two places they could end up...just sayin. And this is really short because I wanted to get it posted before the Internet goes out for an undetermined amount of time.

They left a note for Ruth and Thomas, gathered their things, and slipped off into the night. They didn't know where they were going, but it didn't matter. They were together, and it was a beautiful night.

"I can't believe they just ran off into the night," Ruth said after reading their note.

It said: _Thank you both for opening your home to us. We know this is kind of sudden, but there's really no way to explain it. We just know it's time for us to go. We'll write--if you'll let us. _

Thomas handed her a drink. "I don't know why you say their behavior baffles you so much."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you forget, my dear, I knew you before you were the pillar of respectability you are now."

_Fall 1913_

_Georgia_

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Rose asked impatiently.

"Not yet. Just a little further."

"Now?"

"Now."

Rose was awestruck. "Jack, it's...it's beautiful," she gasped.

"Do you really think so?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes! It's--I wish I could stay here forever." She turned in a circle, taking it all in. The house--a former plantation house built circa 1845--and the garden that surrounded it.

"Do you mean that?"


	72. Chapter 72

Two weeks later they moved in. It took all of three minutes for them to walk inside and set down their two bags. "Jack, I think there's something we didn't think about." Rose looked around their empty front room. "I think you're right," he said. "What do we do about it?"

"Well, I guess we…get things," Rose said. The words sounded strange even as she said them. For over year they had either lived without things—slept in the car or outside—or wherever they stayed had already had whatever they needed.

"Okay. The best way to do it seems to be to figure out what we need most," Jack said. "So, what would that be?"

"We could probably use a bed," Rose suggested. "And food. And something to cook it with and maybe something to eat off of."

"Yeah that didn't really narrow down the list like I'd hoped."

"We have to go shopping, don't we?"

"Looks like it."

And so the intrepid—and unprepared—couple set out, determined to return with everything they would need for the first few days in their new house. Their first stop was a furniture store where they learned if they purchased a bed—or anything else—that day they could have it by the following Tuesday. Had they been in a town large enough to have two furniture stores they would have tried their luck at the next one, but as it was there was only the one. Reasoning that they might as well get all the furniture they needed at the same time they went ahead and bought everything at once.

After that they went in search of cookware, which Rose just stared at. She was torn between fear and ignorance. She needn't have worried. Jack didn't expect her to ever touch any of it. He had never said anything before, but he secretly liked cooking.

"I can't believe you never told me," Rose said, astonished—and relieved—by his revelation. "I would have never guessed."

"It just never came up. We've never really done that much cooking for ourselves. When we were in Santa Monica last summer I let you do it all because you seemed to enjoy it."

"I did?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to take that away from you."

"Please take it."

They returned home just as the sun was setting. They dropped their purchases onto the kitchen counter and collapsed onto the floor.

"I never realized how much went into just furnishing a house," Jack said. "Everyone always makes it look so easy."

"I know. No wonder we've avoided having a home for so long."

"It was kind of fun though, getting to decide what would go into our house." Jack smiled when he said the word "our".

"It was." Rose looked over at him. "I never thought I'd get to do anything like that—at least not before I married you." She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and let her hand rest lightly on his cheek. "You don't know how happy being with you makes me."

He kissed her hand. "If it's half as happy as you make me then I'm doing something right."

They moved toward each other, as if pulled a magnet. Rose laced his hair through her fingers as their lips met. It was the kind of kiss that starts out slow but gradually grows more intense. Jack slid his hands down her body until he found the bottom of her dress. Rose let out a quiet groan as his hands began to travel up her legs, stopping just before they reached what she wanted touched the most.

He pulled his mouth away from hers. "Guess we didn't need a bed as much as we thought," he said.

She just stared at him in disbelief. "Did you really just stop to tell me that?" Before he could answer she had pushed him onto his back and was straddling him.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he said.

She laid his hands on her thighs. "Don't think," she whispered. "Just touch me."


	73. Chapter 73

They were eating breakfast the next morning when out of nowhere they heard a knock at the door. "Who could that be?" Rose asked. Jack set down his fork. "We don't know anyone here," he said. Puzzled, they climbed to their feet—they were still without chairs—and hurried to the front door. There they found three women of varying ages, all carrying food of some sort.

"Yes?" Rose said pleasantly.

"I'm Mrs. Theodore Mayfair," the oldest one said. She had her white hair pulled into a neat bun and wore a black mourning dress that looked like it could easily have seen the burning of Atlanta. She motioned to the woman next to her. "This is my sister, Mrs. Henry Osbourne." Mrs. Henry Osbourne had pale blonde hair that she wore in a bun similar to her sister's. Her dress looked like it had come from the 1880s. "And this," she said, indicating the third woman who smiled brightly. "is our niece, Abigail." Abigail looked like she was about Rose's age. She had dark blue eyes and long dark hair that fell freely about her shoulders.

"We just wanted to come by and introduce ourselves," Mrs. Mayfair continued. "We haven't had neighbors down this way in quite some time."

"Oh, well how kind of you," Rose said. "I'm Rose and this is my husband Jack." Jack nodded and smiled. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Would you like to come inside? We were just having breakfast and we don't really have anything to sit on, but if you'd like—"

"Don't you have furniture?" Mrs. H. O. asked.

"Not yet," Rose said. "We just moved in yesterday, and we didn't think to get any before then."

"Didn't you have any where you lived before?" Mrs. H. O. looked puzzled.

Rose nudged Jack. "Well, we've been doing a lot of traveling since we got married and just haven't settled down enough to give it a thought," he said. They accepted his explanation without question.

"We'd best be going," Mrs. T. M. said. "Don't want to keep you from the rest of your breakfast." She handed Rose a small card. "We live in the house about a mile down the road on the left. We'd love it if you came to lunch sometime."

And off they went, just as suddenly as they had come.

"What was that?" Jack asked, once they were safely settled back in the kitchen.

"I have no idea," Rose said. "They asked so many questions. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there to subdue them."

"I subdued them?"

"Okay, charmed them. Do you like that word better?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just told it like it was."

"You can pretend that you don't know what kind of effect you have on women all you want Jack Dawson, but I know all about it. I was one of them," Rose said, pointing at him with her fork.

"You're the only one I care about having any kind of affect on," Jack said. "You're the only one that matters."

"I hope so."

Meanwhile the rest of the county was making the acquaintance of that "intriguing young couple that bought the Hammond place" thanks to their three new neighbors. Within two hours they had managed to pass the story of their visit to everyone they knew, and with each re-telling those who hadn't met them only wanted to do so even more. Jack and Rose found themselves meeting new people for the rest of the day.

"Where are you from?" a Mrs. Terence Spofford asked, peering at them over her glasses. She was accompanied by her maiden sister, a Miss Spencer.

"Well, originally I'm from Philadelphia, and he's from Wisconsin," Rose said.

"That explains the accents," Miss Spencer said.

Jack and Rose exchanged glances. "Accents?" Jack looked at them quizzically.

"Excuse my sister," Mrs. T. S. said. "She sometimes speaks when she shouldn't. All she meant was you speak like you're from the North."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense," Rose said, relieved. "I thought it was something bad."

The sisters exchanged glances.

And thus the mythology that was growing around Jack and Rose grew another branch.


	74. Chapter 74

AN: These last few have been kind of short, but the next few should be longer. Some actual stuff is about to start happening again.

A few days later Rose wandered into the kitchen while Jack was cooking. "Do you think people think we're odd?" she asked. He didn't look up from the soup he was stirring. "I hadn't actually thought about it," he said. "Why?'

"I get the feeling we've become that eccentric couple. I don't know how to explain it exactly. For instance, just now those neighbors of ours, those two sisters that Mrs. Mayfair and Mrs. Osbourne—"

"Oh I remember them alright."

"Well, they were walking by and they gave me the oddest look."

"What were you doing?"

"Reading."

"That's all?"

"I had climbed into a tree…."

Jack looked up from his soup. "Were you dressed like that too?"

Rose looked down at herself. During their travels she'd taken to wearing Jack's clothes from time to time—she said they were easier to drive in, but she hadn't stopped. Jack wouldn't have said anything, but he suspected she didn't want to stop.

"Oh," she said. "See, we are odd."

"I don't think we're odd." Jack held out a long spoon. "Here, taste this."

"It's good. What is it?"

Jack looked pleased with himself. "Not telling. It's a secret. I made it up myself."

"And you say we're not odd…."

Jack brought the subject up again while they ate dinner. "I wouldn't call us odd," he said. "I'd call us eccentric."

"Eccentric?"

"Yeah. Think about it. I'm a reclusive artist, and you're my—"

"Odd wife?"

"No, you're my brilliant wife who sometimes forgets she's wearing pants when she decides to spend time in trees."

"Some people would say only an odd woman would wear pants," Rose argued.

"Who exactly are these people?" Jack asked bemused.

"Just..people."

"My sweet Rose listen to me: I do not think you're odd. I think you're wonderful, and it doesn't matter if someone gave you a funny look. I'm sure if they knew how we met they'd be giving us both plenty of interesting looks, okay?"

Rose sighed. She knew when she was defeated. "Okay."

"I do think your mother was right, though."

"About what?"

"I have been a bad influence on you." He shook his head dramatically. "Imagine what she'd say if she had seen you."

"That is not funny," Rose said, but she was laughing anyway.


	75. Chapter 75

"Look dear, it's a letter from Rose," Thomas said, handing Ruth a large envelope. She held it gingerly between her fingertips. "Well, aren't you going to open it?" he asked. Reluctantly she did. Inside the envelope she found a sketch of an old, impressive house surrounded by trees. On the back Jack had written: _See I told you I'd give her a home. _She didn't know why, but something about it made her doubted Rose had noticed him write it. Underneath that was a warmly restrainted letter.

"What does it say?"

Ruth looked up. "What?"

"The letter. What's it say? How are they?"

"Oh, they're fine. They've bought a house, and it looks as though they're settling down, for awhile at least. It sounds like they're happy."

"Seeing as how they're staying still for awhile, why don't you go visit them?"

"I couldn't do that," Ruth said incredulously. "They'd never have me."

"I don't know what happened between the three of you--though I have a theory--but I think there's a chance it could be worked out if you just tried. From the looks of it they're making an effort. Why don't you?"

"I'll think about it."

A few weeks later Rose opened a letter from her mother. "I almost didn't expect her to write back," she said.

"She probably didn't expect you to write her first," Jack said.

Rose quickly scanned the letter. "Oh no," she said.

"What? Something happen?" Jack leaned to the side and read over her shoulder. "Did she really just say that?"

"I think she did," Rose said, disbelief in her voice. "Jack, should we do?"

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do. If she wants to come we have to let her, don't we?"

"How badly do you want my mother in our lives? Because I could probably live without her."

"Rose, calm down," he said soothingly. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. If people who barely know us think we're odd--" "Eccentric." "--fine, eccentric can you imagine what my mother will say about how we live?"

"Your mother has a pretty good idea of how we live already."

"Fine. We'll tell her to come, and when she gets her I can wear your clothes on my walks and you can do all the cooking like usual."

"Fine," Jack said. "If she doesn't like it...well, that's just one more thing she can blame me for, okay?"

On the morning Ruth was supposed to arrive Rose was a nervous wreck. She changed her dress three times, re-stacked books that were already stacked, and generally did a lot of unnecessary things. Jack watched silently, slightly amused by her antics.

"How can you be so calm?" she asked as they left to pick up Ruth at the train station.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe it's because I've accepted that if she doesn't approve of us there's not much we can do about it, you know? I mean, I'd like it if she did, but what else can I do to make her?"

Rose considered his words. "I suppose you're right."

It didn't take them long to collect Ruth, who actually greeted them with each with a hug. They were very brief hugs, but as far as Jack and Rose were concerned it was the thought that counted. She couldn't help but make a face when Rose did the driving home. Hoping to deflect tension before it began Jack commented on Rose's driving skills and asked Ruth if she didn't agree. She grudgingly admitted that she did.

Ruth's eyes widened in awe when they reached the house. She'd seen the sketch, but seeing it in person was different. Jack and Rose exchanged amused glances while Ruth stared at the house. He doubted he could have impressed Ruth any more if he'd taken all their money and placed it in stacks for her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rose asked as they stepped inside. Ruth nodded. "It really is." Rose smiled to herself. "Come on, let me show you around," she said, motioning for her mother to follow her. Jack followed too. Even though he didn't care if Ruth approved of him or not, he couldn't help but be pleased by how blown away she was by everything.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they'd gone through the entire house and gotten Ruth settled in. "Why don't you and your mother spend some time together while I go make dinner?" Jack suggested.

Ruth gave him a puzzled look. "While _you_--?"

"Yes, while _I _make dinner," Jack said. He laid a hand on Rose's shoulder. "I love cooking, and fortunately Rose indulges me."

"Oh. How--how kind of her," Ruth said sounding as though she didn't quite believe him. Rose breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Ruth let the discussion end there.

After Jack left for the kitchen Ruth turned to Rose. "What do you while he's doing that?" she asked.

"Well, I do different things. Usually around this time I take a walk."

"I see."

"Would you like to come with me?"

Ruth looked shocked by the invitation. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No," Rose said standing up. "I'll show you where all the parts of the garden will be in the spring."

"The garden? Who's going to take care of that?"

"I am." Rose smiled. "It's something I've always wanted to do."

"I didn't know that," Ruth said, following her toward the door. She had a feeling she would be learning a lot of thing she'd never known about her before.


	76. Chapter 76

They walked in silence for 15 minutes before Ruth finally blurted out "Does he make you happy?"

Rose was somewhat startled by the question, but she didn't show it. "Yes, he does," she said. "He makes me happier than I ever thought was possible."

"You look happy together."

"I hope so."

They lapsed into silence again. Rose wanted desperately to ask her mother what she was thinking. She was baffled by everything that was going on. It was as though her mother had been replaced with a completely different person. She'd gone from cursing the very sight of them to grudgingly acknowledging their happiness. _What changed?_ she wondered. Where was the woman she had known all her life?

"Rose, I know you enjoy the outdoors, but you really must be careful about going out in the sun so much. Why, with your complexion---"

_There she is_, Rose thought as her mother rambled on about skin care. As much as her mother's lectures had always irritated her before this one seemed almost comforting. It was like being on familar territory after spending years lost at sea.

"Rose? Are you listening?"

"Yes, mother," she replied with a smile.

Rose was brushing her hair when Jack came into their room. "Today seemed to go okay," he said. He began undressing for bed. Rose nodded. "You're right," she said absently.

"Are you okay?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Something wrong?" She didn't respond. "Rose?"

"Jack, my mother asked me something today, and I didn't know how to answer her," she said. "I didn't know how to even begin answering her, and I just felt so confused...and ashamed." She dropped her head. "It's the same thing that happens whenever anyone else asks me."

Jack dropped to his knees. He gently lifted her face. "What did she ask?"

There were tears in the corners of Rose's eyes. "She asked why we didn't have children yet."

Jack felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. It had taken him months to stop constantly thinking about that very thing. They'd probably never see Cal again, but it didn't matter. What he'd done would be with them for the rest of their lives. Jack was torn between a sudden urge for revenge that he hadn't felt in a long time and the need to be strong for Rose. He pulled her out of the chair and onto his lap. She buried her face in his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he said. He hugged her tightly. "I'd do anything to change it. I'd go back and stop you from even meeting me if that would help."

"No!" Rose cried. She raised her head and looked at him. "If you did that I wouldn't care if I couldn't have children. I wouldn't care about anything."

"But it happened because of me--"

"It wasn't your fault. And if I didn't have you I don't even know if I'd want children."

Jack was shocked. "You don't?"

"It wasn't something I thought about until I met you," Rose explained. "I only wanted to have yours."

Her words sent a rush of love through him that was immediately chilled by the knowledge that it could never happen. "I wanted you to have mine too," he said, beginning to cry. She buried her face in his neck, her own tears flowing freely. He held her tightly and slowly rocked back and forth. There was nothing either of them could say to make it better. All they could do was hold each other and cry it out. Cry out the pain of losing something they'd never had.

The next morning Jack was up with the sun, as usual. He gave Rose a quick kiss and slipped out of bed. He dressed quickly and headed downstairs. He was outside watching the sun finish rising when Ruth found him.

"You're up early," he said pleasantly.

"So are you." She offered him a slight smile.

"Oh, I always am."

"Rose isn't up yet is she?"

"Nope. I'm afraid it's a bit too early for her."

"She always did want to sleep all day," Ruth said, not unkindly.

Jack laughed. "I don't know how she does it." He grew serious. "But I don't know how she does a lot of things."

"Such as?"

"Oh, nothing," he said dismissively. "It just amazes me to watch her sometimes, you know?"

Ruth wanted to agree with him, but she couldn't. She couldn't remember ever being amazed by her daughter. Frustrated, exasperated, shocked by her but never amazed. All the qualities in her that Jack celebrated were the qualities she had always tried so hard to chastize out of her. She decided to ignore his comment and change the subject completely. "How is your work going?"

Jack looked at her in surprise. "It's good," he said.

"Selling well I hope."

Jack couldn't suppress a smile. "Worried about how I'm going to take care of her?"

"No. I can see you're doing an excellent job of that."

"Thank you. I'm trying. I know it isn't the life you wanted for her, but--"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I've been doing a lot of thinking since the last time we spoke and--" she paused, almost afraid to continue, "well, I realized that although you are not the man I would have chosen for Rose--" Jack suppressed the urge to share his opinion of the man she had chosen for Rose "--you _do_ seem to make her happy."

"I'm glad you finally came to understand that," he said. "Her happiness means everything to me."

"Well, you make it obvious. The way you look at her alone shows how much you care about her. And I can see how much she cares for you too," she admitted. "I didn't want to, but there's no avoiding it."

"Been holding out hope she'd come to her senses and leave me?"

Ruth laughed in spite of herself. "Something like that. Jack,--" He held in his surprise at hearing her use his name. "--I wonder if you could clear something up for me. Yesterday I asked her when the two of you were planning to have children, and she got the strangest look in her eyes and refused to answer. It was as though I'd asked when she planned to leave you."

He chose his words carefully. "That's not for me to explain. It's up to her to tell you--when and if she decides to."

"But she'll never tell me," Ruth protested. "She won't confide in me. She never has."

"Maybe if you tell her what you just told me there might be a chance. Let her see how hard you're trying to be okay with this--with us."

"Do you think that will work?"

"Won't know until you try."

Meanwhile Rose had gotten out of bed as well. She took up her usual morning post in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace in the downstairs parlor. Mornings were the time she set aside to write, and lately she'd been working on a novel. She hadn't told Jack about it yet, but she was actually somewhat pleased with it.

Except she couldn't seem to get into the writing mode. Her mind kept going back to the conversation with her mother the day before. She wished she had answered her question instead of avoiding it, but she hadn't know how. She knew Jack would tell her not to be, but she was ashamed of the fact that she couldn't give him children. It didn't matter that it was through no fault of her own. As unconventional--_okay, eccentric--_as their life together was she couldn't bring herself to accept that they would never have a "family."

She had meant it when she told him she didn't know if she wanted children before she met him. Having Cal's children had never appealed to her. It wouldn't matter that half of her went into them. They would still be his, and nothing she did or said would have any effect on how they were brought up. But she'd wanted Jack's. Maybe not right away, but eventually. She'd liked knowing it _could_ happen.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of voices. "Told you she'd be in here," Jack said as he and her mother came into the room. "How's the most beautiful woman in the world?" he asked, kissing her.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her yourself," Rose teased.

"I just might not make you breakfast you keep talking like that," he said, trying his best to sound serious.

Ruth watched them silently. It was as if they had completely forgotten she was there. They only had eyes for each other. _You could have been like that_, her mind said. _If you'd let yourself. _She shook away the thought. It was no use dwelling on that now. She'd made her choice, and it hadn't been so very bad. Besides, things had worked out in the end.


	77. Chapter 77

That afternoon while Jack was off painting, Ruth cornered Rose. "Is there any way we could talk?" she asked, sitting down beside her.

"Alright," Rose said. She laid her book aside. "Is something wrong?"

"No," her mother assured her. "There's just a few things I feel you should know."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, I just want you to know that after seeing you and Jack together I must admit you do seem happy. I know I said it yesterday, but it seemed necessary to say it again." She took a deep breath. "I know I haven't dealt with your decision to marry him very well, and I know I said some things that were completely uncalled for--to both of you. I understand now that it wasn't my decision to make for you, and I just have to live with the choice you made."

"Yes, you do," Rose said calmly.

"You have to understand, when you left Cal I was sure you were throwing your life away. I couldn't imagine Jack ever being able to take care of you. I doubted he could even take care of himself. But he's proven me wrong. And it's clear how much he loves you."

Rose stared at her mother. Had she really heard what she thought she'd heard? Was the woman beside her really her mother? "Thank you," she said. "I mean that."

"There's something else I want you to know," Ruth continued. "I had planned never to tell you, but now I think you deserve to know." She paused, gathering the strength to finish. "Rose, you have a sister."

Rose's head spun. "W--what? How? Where? You're saying you had another child?"

"No, you're _my_ only child, but your father had two children. First there was you and then there was Cynthia. Your sister."

"He had two children?" Rose was having trouble understanding what she was hearing. "And one of them isn't yours? So that means--"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"I met the woman--his mistress--not long before he died. She wanted to see him before he went. I didn't let her. I had always known she existed, but..."

"How could he do that?"

"Rose, what you have to understand is your father and I were never in love. I married him for his money. He married me because I was attractive and accomplished and respectable. He knew I would make a good, acceptable wife, and I did." She shook her head. "We never cared for each other in the least though. We lived together pleasantly enough, but....it was nothing compared to what you and Jack have."

"I can't believe it," Rose said. "I can't believe that all this time..."

"I'm sorry to just tell you like this, but I didn't know how else to do it. I just couldn't stand for you to go on not knowing any longer."

"Thank you for telling me." Rose sounded as if she were a million miles away. "I think I need some time to think about this, if you don't mind."

Ruth got up to leave. "I understand."

Rose was still sitting there when Jack came in a few hours later. "Hey," he said, dropping down beside her. He noticed her glazed eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You're never going to believe what my mother just told me."


	78. Chapter 78

"Wow, that's..." Jack couldn't find words to describe it.

"Pretty much what I said," Rose said.

"Why did she suddenly tell you now?"

"She said she couldn't let me go on not knowing." Rose shrugged. "To tell you the truth I don't 's not like her to talk about something like this, but...she's been doing a lot of things I never expected lately."

"Yeah, but this is still--it's a pretty big thing. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I mean, I don't know her, and if my mother had never told me I'd have no idea she even existed. So, why should it affect me?" Rose didn't sound convinced.

Jack chose not to point it out. "Okay," was all he said. It wasn't up to him to make her deal with it or to force an issue where there wasn't one. If she wanted to talk about it, she would.

The rest of Ruth's visit wasn't nearly as eventful. She stayed another two days, and on the morning she was supposed to leave, Jack woke up feeling relieved. The air hadn't feel right since her revelation, and he hoped once she was gone things would settle again. He could sense Rose was uncomfortable around her though she wouldn't admit it.

They were eating dinner a few days after Ruth left when Rose said, "I'm thinking about writing her."

He didn't need to ask who. "Really? Sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm actually not sure, but I just have this--this urge to meet her. I don't know why. It's like now that I know she's there..." She shrugged. "I know it doesn't make any sense."

"No, I think it makes sense. And I think you need to be sure this is what you wanna do before you do it. I know how prone you are to impulsive behavior."

Rose feigned shock. "Me?"

_Two Weeks Later_

_Philadelphia_

Cynthia Gibbons stared at the letter in her hand. She'd read it three times already and it still didn't make sense. Why would this woman suddenly be contacting her? What could she possibly hope to gain by meeting her? She'd never been good enough for her father's "real" family before, so why now?

"Mom!"

"What is it?" she asked absently, still engrossed in the letter.

"Mom, can I go outside? Can I?"

"Sure."

The slam of the door brought her back to reality. Maybe this was a good thing. She looked at the door her daughter had just slammed. "Maybe there's something _I_ can get out of this."

Jack dropped a letter onto Rose's lap. "She wrote back," he said. Rose just stared at it as if she were afraid to touch it. "I wonder what she wrote," she said. Jack dropped into a nearby chair. "Only way to find out is to open it," he said.

Rose quickly devored the letter. "She..she wants to come here."

"What?"

"That's what it says. She wants to meet us, but she wants to come here to do it."

"Seems like that's becoming the popular option these days. No wonder we waited so long to have a home," Jack joked.

Rose cracked a smile. "Was that why we waited?" She grew serious again. "What should I do?"

"Do you want to meet her?"

"Yes.

"I say invite her then."

And so she did, never suspecting what she was getting them into.


	79. Chapter 79

AN: Please forgive my terrible "Gone With the Wind" joke, but as my roommate said, "Well, they are in Georgia..." And Cynthia is older than Rose by a few years. When Ruth said Rose was "first" she meant that Rose was the more important of the two.

Cynthia arrived a day before she said she would. Jack and Rose had offered to pay for her trip, and she hadn't tried to dissuade them. She checked into a hotel for the night and, after leaving her daughter with one of the other women there, set out to find them. Of course, she had no intention of letting them know she was there. The whole point of showing up early was so she could get a chance to see them before they saw her.

She had a vague idea of where they lived, but once she was outside of town her entire sense of direction was thrown off. Relieved, she spotted a large yellow house. As she got closer she saw two older women sat on a porch that ran the length of the house.

"Excuse me," she said as soon as she was within earshot. "I was wondering if you could help me find someone."

"You're not from around here, are you?" the older of the two asked.

"How'd you guess?"

"Oh, we know just about everyone for two counties, don't we Scarlett?" the second one said. The one identified as Scarlett nodded. "Just about Melanie. Who can we help you find?"

"I'm looking for a couple that moved here recently. A Jack and Rose Dawson. Would you happen to know where they live?"

Melanie smiled. "Oh, we know where they live."

"Have to be blind not to notice those two," Scarlett said.

"Hush Scarlett. Now, let me tell you where you need to go..."

As pleased as she was to get directions, Cynthia couldn't help but be unnerved by what Scarlett had said. What had she meant? Obviously she thought there was something unusual about them, but what could it be? _Are you sure you know what you're getting into?_ she asked herself as a a house that matched Melanie's description came into view. _No, I don't. That's why I'm here now._

She crept into the yard, not allowing herself to get caught up in the house. There was no-one in sight. It was silent. Taking care to remain as hidden as possible she made her way around back, ducking behind a large bush at the sound of voices. She watched as a man with bordering on long blonde hair and a redhaired woman came into sight. Their hands were clasped. As they got closer she was shocked to see the woman was dressed in a man's shirt and pants. Neither of them wore shoes. They were laughing about something she hadn't heard. They came to a stop a few feet from the bush she was hiding in.

Jack stroked Rose's cheek with his thumb."I've missed seeing you like this," he said.

"Like what?"

"Happy."

"What do you mean? I haven't been unhappy...." She thought for a moment. "Have I?"

"Maybe that wasn't the right word. Lately you've just looked..weighed down. Your eyes haven't had that light in them in awhile, that's all."

"You are the only person who could notice something like that," she said in awe.

"Anyone could see it. If they just look. I'm the just the only person who's ever tried to see you."

"You're the only person who _has_ seen me," she corrected him. She tilted her head up and kissed him. He moved his hands to her waist. Before she knew what was happening he dropped to the ground, pulling her down with him.

Between kisses she said, "You realize we're outside, right?"

"Is that where we are?"

"That's where we are."

"Well, I was just thinking, you know out of all the places--"

"Not out here, Jack."

"I wouldn't have actually asked you to anyway," he grinned. He jumped to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it even though she didn't need any help.

"Sure about that?" she teased as they headed into the house.

"Oh yeah. I prefer the kitchen--" was the last thing Cynthia heard them say. She quickly scrambled to her feet and hurried back out to the road. As she walked back to town she tried to understand what she'd just seen. Scarlett's comment was beginning to make more sense. They _were_ odd. _Why was she wearing men's clothes? _she wondered. _And why didn't it bother him?_

As she reached her hotel she pushed the questions from her mind. "Where were you?" asked the nine year old Stella when she collected her.

"Just working on securing your future," Cynthia said. Stella looked at her funny, but she didn't respond. She was accustomed to the cryptic things her mother said. She wandered off to read--she was quite a precocious child though Cynthia had rarely encouraged or even taken much notice of her abilities--leaving her mother to ponder. She realized that, as strange as what she'd seen had been, it had just confirmed her suspicions.

_They. Have. Money. _


	80. Chapter 80

AN: In case you didn't see the updated version of the previous chapter, I went back and made Stella a bit older than I originally described her as.

Cynthia's wake-up time the next morning rivaled Jack's. She gathered her things and woke up Stella. After a quick breakfast they set out. "Who are we going to see?" Stella asked. "My sister," Cynthia answered.

"Why haven't we seen her before?"

"We just haven't."

"What's her name?"

"Rose. Now stop asking so many questions, we're almost there."

Jack was sipping coffee, looking out the front window when he noticed a dark haired young woman approaching. She held a small girl by the hand. "Rose," he called. "I think she's here."

Rose rushed over to the window. "Is that her?" She smoothed her dress nervously. "What do I say?"

Jack took her hands. "You say hello. That's all. You're going to be fine. It will either go well or it won't. There's nothing you can do if it doesn't, okay?"

Rose nodded. She took a deep breath. "You can always do that."

"Do what?"

"Help me see."

"Thought that was my gift," he said, leading her to the door.

They met Cynthia on the porch. "Hello," Rose said, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. She held out her hand and was surprised when Cynthia took it. "Hello," she said. "You must be Rose."

Rose nodded. "Yes. And this is my husband Jack." Jack smiled. "Hi."

Rose was right about the effect Jack had on women. Cynthia was feeling that effect even as they spoke. "This is my daughter Stella," she said. Stella looked up from the book she was holding in her hands. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Well," Rose began once they were settled inside. "Have you eaten? Jack already made some breakfast."

"We ate before we left, but thank you," Cynthia said. She ignored the urge to ask why Jack was the one who had done the cooking.

"So..." Jack searched for something to say that would save them from an awkward silence. His eyes landed on Stella who was still reading. "What're you reading?" he asked.

"Descartes," she answered without looking up.

He looked at Rose. "Don't you read...?"

"Yes, I do," Rose said. "How do you like him?"

"Well, I think he relies too much on circular logic."

"So do I." Rose smiled. "You're awfully young to be thinking about these things."

"Am I?" Stella looked genuinely unsure.

"Oh, she reads everything," Cynthia said dismissively. "There's no way to know if she actually understands it."

Rose felt her stomach twist when she saw a familar look in Stella's eyes. "It sounds like she does," she said, keeping her tone light.

"Why don't we let you settle in?" Jack suggested. He had heard the edge under Rose's pleasant tone. "If you want, we'll show you your rooms." He stood up and motioned to Rose. "Yes," she said, standing up too. "I'm sure you'd like to put your things away."

"That would be lovely," Cynthia said.

A few minutes later, when they were safely alone in the kitchen, Rose stopped holding her thoughts in. "How could she say that?"

"What?" Jack asked, knowing exactly what she meant.

"About her daughter. That was--I thought only my mother would--"

"Rose, it's okay. You don't know anything about them," he said, hoping to calm her.

"But she's smart! I can tell. She's so young, but I can see it. When I looked in that child's eyes I saw myself," Rose said quietly. "Maybe it's not exactly the same, but it's close. She has a mother who doesn't value her intelligence either."

Jack sighed. He agreed with her, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He cradled her face in his hands. "My sweet Rose," he said sadly. "It isn't up to you to save her."

"Only she can do that, right?"

"Something like that, yeah."

On the way up the stairs Stella had noticed a room filled with books. Her interest was immediately sparked. She threw her bag onto the bed in her room and hurried back downstairs, hoping to make it to the room before her mother noticed.

And that's where she was when Rose found her. "What are you doing?" Rose asked.

"Oh," Stella said, startled. "I was just looking at all your books. You have so many." Her eyes were wide with awe.

_So I can't save her. Fine,_ Rose thought. _That doesn't mean I can't give her a push to save herself, does it? After all, isn't that what he did for me?_


	81. Chapter 81

AN: Hey everyone, let me know what you think of the new direction...please?

Jack had opened his mouth to call for Rose when he caught sight of her brilliant red hair. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the room that had slowly but surely been converted into a library. Stella sat in a similar pose across from her. Books were spread around them. They leaned toward each other, whispering excitedly. The sight sent a pang through him. It looked so natural, like a mother and her child. Before he knew it, he was wishing it was.

_No! _He told himself. _You can't think like that. _It would only make their reality that much harder to bear. Yet he had to admit it had been much easier when he'd never actually seen Rose with a child—when it had just been some vague vision in his mind. Pushing his thoughts aside he cleared his throat and stepped into the library.

"You two sure move fast," he said.

Both of their heads snapped up. Rose surveyed the beginnings of the mess around them. "I guess we do," she admitted chuckling.

Cynthia had come downstairs only moments before, stopping just around the corner from the library. She'd heard voices and wanted to try and catch what was being said without them knowing about it. After all, it might be about her. She was actually quite sure it was about her. Annoyed when it wasn't she strode into the library, trying her best to look as though she just happened to wander in.

"Well, there you are," she said gaily, catching sight of Stella.

"Yes, here I am," Stella said. Her voice held none of the enthusiasm of her mother's. "Where else would I go?" Rose smiled to herself, She'd caught the slightly sarcastic edge to the question. It was the kind of thing she remembered asking her own mother as a child.

Jack noticed Rose's smile, but he chose to try and ignore it. He could see she'd already formed a bond with Stella, and he was torn between encouraging it—they'd looked so happy together—and doing the responsible thing. As much as he wanted to think things could work out okay, he had a feeling they weren't going to. He couldn't have said why he felt that way. He just did.

They made awkward small talk until the early afternoon. Not knowing what else to do, Rose invited Cynthia on her walk. She reasoned that it had worked out okay with her mother, why not try it again? Jack and Stella stayed behind.

"So…" he said once they were alone. He had no idea what to do.

"It's okay. You don't have to pay attention to me," she said picking up a book.

"Seriously?" he asked, puzzled by her flat reaction.

She nodded. "Seriously. I'm used to it. None of the men my mother knows have ever been interested in me."

He felt his stomach sink. _Well Rose, looks like we're falling into the pit together. _


	82. Chapter 82

AN: Thanks for all the incredible reviews! And I'm glad the dynamic between Jack and Rose and Ruth is working. I have read too many stories where her character just completely transforms overnight too, so I understand how annoying that is.

Rose was discovering that talking to Cynthia wasn't any easier when it was just the two of them. In fact, it was even more difficult.

"So…" she said. "I suppose you've been wondering why I got in touch with you."

"Actually I have been," Cynthia admitted.

"I know it was rather unexpected—"

"I'll say."

"It's just that, well, once I knew about you—"

Cynthia stopped walking. "Wait, are you saying you never knew about me?"

Rose stopped too. "Yes," she said, somewhat confused. "I didn't even know you existed until a few weeks ago. Why, did you think I did?"

"Well—well, yeah!" Cynthia was surprised by how loudly her voice came out. She brought it back down to a normal level. "I mean, it's just that I've always known about you."

Rose felt as though she'd been hit. "You have?"

"Of course I have. You were the one he spent all his time with—the reason he never stayed," Cynthia said, suddenly angry. It wasn't fair. Why hadn't she been the one whose feelings were protected?

"Oh, you have it so wrong," Rose said, shaking her head.

Meanwhile Jack was ignoring his better judgment and talking to Stella. "What else do you like to do?" he asked.

"I..I don't know," she said. She looked up at him. "I don't think I've ever thought about it."

_No, no, no,_ he told himself. _You are not talking to a child version of Rose. It does not matter how alike they sound. You are _not _"too involved". You are not even involved at all. Do not become involved. _

His self-lecturing was interrupted by her asking, "What do you do?"

"I—actually, it's easier to show you. Do you wanna see?"

She nodded eagerly. "Okay."

"Come on."

_This is becoming involved. This is what becoming involved looks like. _

Jack signed. "Yeah, I know," he muttered to himself.

The attic was a large, open room with windows on all four sides. The second he'd seen it Jack had loved it. It had the perfect lighting, he'd thought. It wasn't long before he'd taken over the entire room. Sketches were everywhere, paintings—some finished and some not—leaned against the walls. In one corner was a table where he kept his supplies.

"You did all of these?" Stella asked, obviously impressed.

"All of 'em," Jack said.

She moved to examine one of the unfinished paintings. It was a watercolour of a red haired woman and a blonde man standing at the edge of, well that part wasn't finished yet, their arms spread like wings. "That's you, isn't it?" She looked at him and then looked back at the painting. "It's both of you. What were you doing?"

Jack wasn't sure how to explain exactly what was going on in the painting, so he settled for the simple though cryptic answer of "Flying."

She nodded, accepting his answer as though it made perfect sense and proceeded to examine the rest of the room. He watched, telling himself not to get any more involved than he already was.

"See, I told you they'd be up here," Rose said. She and Cynthia stood in the doorway. Jack and Stella looked up from the piece of paper that lay on the floor between them. "How long have you been there?" he asked.

"We just got here," Rose said. "What were you doing?"

"Drawing," Jack said sheepishly. Rose raised her eyebrow just enough that only he noticed. He shot her a quick "What was I supposed to do?" look. She didn't respond. There wasn't anything she could have said anyway, verbal or otherwise that wasn't a repeat of what he'd already told himself.

"Did you do these?" Cynthia asked, surveying the room.

"Yeah, I did," he said.

"You're very talented," she said.

"Thanks. I'm okay." He shrugged.

"Okay?" Rose said in a voice that told them all exactly what she thought of his use of the word.

"She's right," Cynthia agreed. "I'd say you're better than just okay."

"Alright you win," he said climbing to his feet. "Shall we all go back downstairs now?"

As the four of them filed down the stairs Rose's mind was drawn back to the way Jack and Stella had looked before she'd interrupted them. _That's what he would look like with a child,_ she thought. _He'd be wonderful._ She felt a rush of sadness as she realized it was something she would probably never see again.

What she didn't know was that she wasn't the only one who saw it.


	83. Chapter 83

The rest of the day went better than the morning had, though Jack kept noticing Cynthia staring at him. He told himself it was all in his head and tried to ignore it. He just hoped Rose wasn't noticing it too. He needn't have worried. Rose was noticing very little, and had he been less preoccupied with Cynthia's staring he would have noticed the way Rose's words were coming out flat and expressionless. She sounded almost as though she were reading a script.

It was as though her mind had been split in two. There was one half that was paying attention to the conversation and directing her to speak when necessary, and there was one half that couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen. No matter what she did the image wouldn't leave. And it wasn't a bad image—which was the whole problem. It all would have been so much easier to bear if it would have turned out that Jack didn't have a "way" with children, but then again, how could he not? The longer she knew him the surer she became that Jack was one of those people who just has a way with _people_. Sometimes it seemed like there wasn't anyone he couldn't form a bond or at the very least carry on a conversation with. There was just something about him that drew people in.

And had she been less preoccupied herself she would have seen that something at work yet again.

That night Rose went up to bed early. Jack resisted the urge to ask why, but it wasn't long before he found a reason to follow her. When he got to their room he was slightly surprised to see light shining underneath the door. He quietly opened it just enough so his body would fit through and stepped inside. Rose was standing in front of the mirror—naked, her hands covering the scar on her abdomen. She was staring so intently at her reflection she didn't notice him come in.

"Rose?" he said tentatively, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I was—I was just thinking," she said.

"What about?" he asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

She glanced at her hands. "Nothing," she said. "It doesn't matter."

Jack reached around her, laying his hands over hers. "It does matter," he said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it does matter."

She sighed and leaned against him. "Will you just hold me?"

A little while later he was just about to drift off when he heard her say his name. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly wide awake.

"I can't sleep, and I think maybe if I told you what was going on in my head it might help."

"Okay." He turned onto his side so he was facing her, leaving one arm beneath her and one arm draped across her middle.

"You know for awhile it seemed like all anyone said was how wrong we were for each other, how unhappy we'd be. They kept saying there was nothing you could give me, but the truth is you've given me everything I could have ever wanted." Her voice dropped. "I'm the one who can't give _you_ anything."

At that moment Jack's heart felt like it was breaking. "Why would you say that?' he asked. "I have _you_. I don't need anything else."

"You deserve more," she said sadly.

"What more is there?"

Even in the dark he could see the tears in her eyes. "Do I really have to say it?" she asked. And suddenly he understood. "Rose, no!" he cried, pressing her to him. "Don't say that. Don't even think it. I want _you_ I love _you._ Nothing can ever change that." He kissed her hair. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand that?"

"How can I be?" Rose asked tearfully. "Think about everything that's happened to you because of me—all the things you'll never have."

"I don't care." He kissed her. "None of that matters." He kissed her again, more urgently this time. "It doesn't matter what happened." Another kiss. "Or will happen." Still another. "Or won't." By this time they had shifted positions and she had somehow ended up beneath him. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she whispered. "That's why I feel this way."

"No, don't," he said. "Don't think about what we can't have or what we don't have. Think about _us_. Think about you and me. Think about what we have together. Rose we have something so special. Do you know how many people go their entire lives never feeling about someone the way we feel about each other?"

"But is it enough for you?"

"It's more than enough for me. It's all I'll ever need," he said. He laid his head on her chest and closed his eyes. He didn't intend to fall asleep but there was just something so soothing about the sound of her heartbeat—it was a reassurance that she was still there—that he soon found himself drifting off again, whether he wanted to or not. She ran her fingers through his hair until she felt him fall asleep. She lay awake and watched him and tried to make herself to believe him.


	84. Chapter 84

The next morning Jack opened his eyes and found himself looking into Rose's. "You didn't stay awake all night, did you?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I slept. I just woke up early."

He didn't quite believe her, but he didn't argue. He gave her a quick kiss and moved over so she could get up. "I'm going to have a bath," she said heading the bathroom attached to their room. He climbed out of bed and began dressing.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" He paused and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry if I upset you last night," she said. "I just love you so much."

"I love you too," he said.

She gave him a half-smile and closed the bathroom door. After he heard the sound of water running he finished getting dressed. He was about to go downstairs when he realized he wasn't hearing anything but the sound of the water. He told himself it was just paranoia, but he went into the bathroom anyway.

"Good thing I'm getting a bit paranoid," he said. The water was still running and Rose was lying in the tub, asleep. He shut the water off and pulled out to stopper so the tub would drain. He wrapped Rose in a towel and carried her to bed. "Knew you didn't sleep last night," he said. She sighed and settled into the bed. He laid the blanket over her. He lightly kissed her cheek. "That's my girl."

He had just begun cooking breakfast when Cynthia came into the kitchen. "Good morning," he said.

"You cook everything around here, don't you?" she said coming to stand next to him.

"Yeah pretty much."

"I guess you don't have much of a choice."

He chose to ignore the implication of her statement. "I like it."

She looked doubtful. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. It's something I've always liked to do, and I figure that's reason enough for me to be the one who does it."

"I've never met a man who looked at it that way."

"Well, I have heard the word 'odd' used to describe me a few times, though I prefer eccentric myself."

"I wouldn't call you odd. You're certainly unusual though."

Jack smiled. "I can live with that."

"Rose still in bed?"

"Yeah. I hope she stays there awhile. She didn't sleep much last night. Stella in bed?"

She nodded. "It'll probably be awhile for her too. I think she stayed up late reading. I don't' know what I'm going to do with her."

"I wouldn't let it bother me if I were you. She seems kind of advanced for her age."

"You think so?"

"Uh-huh. I know Rose thinks so."

"She likes the two of you. Especially you."

"Well, that's good," he said, trying to ignore the way she had begun staring at him. "We like her too."

"You're really good with her. It's too bad you don't have children of your own."

"Yeah," he kept his voice even. "It really is."

"But I guess that's not really up to you is it?"

Jack pretended not to notice that she had moved closer. "It wasn't up to either of us actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd really prefer not to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay. I just think it's a shame you don't have any. I can see what a wonderful father you'd be. Stella's own father wasn't even that good with her." She touched his arm.

He took a step away from her. "Cynthia, I'm not sure where you're heading, but if it's where I think it is—"

She stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm again. "Where do you think it is?"

He removed her hand. "Look, I am not gonna say what I'm thinking right now, but you need to understand something. Whatever it is you're doing or thinking is not gonna happen. Ever."

Her mouth twisted angrily. "Why not? Because you're with her?"

"Well, yeah!" He stared at her in disbelief. "I'm married to her. I love her. There's no way I would ever—"

"She won't give you what I can," Caynthia said.

"What are you—" Jack remembered what Rose had said the night before. "What did you say to her?"

"Oh nothing," she said innocently. "I just told her what I told you." She turned on her heel and hurried out of the kitchen.

Jack dropped into the closest chair. It was starting to make more sense. The question now was, what was he going to do? He didn't want to tell Rose. It would just upset her even more. But what else could he do?

And then it hit him. There just might be someone else who could help him.


	85. Chapter 85

AN: Just a quick word about the telephone, I looked up phones at that time and it appears that it might have been possible for one to have been used this way. But I might be wrong.

Jack was huddled on the floor of a closet just off the kitchen, phone in hand. He knew he looked a bit ridiculous, but he hadn't been able to think of any other way to make his call a secret one. He waited breathlessly for the ringing on the other end to be replaced by a voice.

"Hello?"

"Ruth!" he whispered loudly.

"Jack?"

He could hear the confusion in her voice. He dropped his voice to a normal whisper. "Yeah."

"Why are you whispering like that?"

"I just have to," he said quickly. "I don't want anyone to hear me. Listen, I need your advice on something--"

"What did you do?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I didn't do anything! I just have this situation I'm not sure how to deal with. Now, just let me explain. See, Rose--"

"What did you let her do?"

Jack sighed. "I didn't _let_ her do anything. I don't let or not let her--" He realized he was on the verge of a possibly neverending arguement. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "You remember how you told Rose about that sister she never knew she had?"

He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he could see Ruth's mouth twisting. "Yes," she said stiffly. "Don't tell me Rose has taken it into her head to meet her."

"Well--"

"Jack Dawson!" He jumped. He hadn't been prepared for Ruth to yell. "How could you let her do that?"

"She wanted to!" he protested. "I told her to be sure, and she said she was. What was I supposed to do? And don't say stop her. I know that's what you're going to say so don't."

"Fine," she spat. "So what's happened?"

"More than I expected," he said.

Ruth listened, managing to keep her thoughts to herself. "Well," she said once he had finished explaining. "You _do_ have a situation on your hands."

"I know what. What should I do? I mean, I feel like I should tell Rose--"

"Do not do that," she commanded.

"Why not? She has a right to know."

"That may be, but do you want to upset her if you don't have to? I'm not telling you to lie to her. I'm just saying that if it isn't necessary. If you can get this woman out of your house and--I hope even out of your lives without Rose ever knowing about this, wouldn't that be the best thing?"

"I hadn't thought about it like that," Jack admitted. "You might have a point."

"Of course I have a point."

"Well, thanks for the advice. I wasn't sure who else to ask." He didn't say it was partially because he didn't actually know that many people very well, and the person he knew best was the one he wasn't sure if he should tell.

"Well, you're welcome," she said, trying to sound kind.

After they'd hung up Jack left the closet and returned the phone to its place. He looked around to make sure no-one had been watching. He didn't see anyone. He hurried upstairs, stopping on the second floor to look in one Rose. She was still sleeping. Satisfied that she was fine--though he wasn't sure why she wouldn't be--he went up to the attic, whether to actually work or to hide he didn't know.

Meanwhile, several states away, Ruth was going over their conversation in her head and deciding that she didn't actually trust Jack to take care of things after all. One quick explanation and an hour later she got on a train.


	86. Chapter 86

AN: First, this has nothing to do with anything, but I bought Revolutionary Road today and watched it for the first time since I drove an hour and a half to see it in theaters—do not judge me—and I now firmly believe that if Kate and Leo filmed two hours of the two of them watching paint dry and talking about it, it would be still be epic. Just wanted to share that because no-one I'm with right now understands. Second, I'm finding that writing Jack and Ruth interaction is becoming one of my favourite things and I don't know why.

When Rose woke up a few hours later she wasn't sure how she'd gotten into bed. The last thing she remembered was getting into the bathtub and turning on the water—_Did I really fall asleep in the tub?_ she asked herself. _Jack must have found me._ She chose not to think about what could have happened if he hadn't. In fact, she was pushing all negative thoughts out of her mind. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on what would never be. It would only make the both of them miserable. "And he's right," she said. "What we have is enough. It's already more than most people ever get."

Suddenly energized she jumped out of bed and threw on the first thing she saw—which just so happened to be Jack's. Catching sight of herself in the mirror she briefly considered changing into a dress—after all, a dress was the "proper" thing to wear—but quickly decided she didn't care.

Rose was a bit surprised at how quiet the house was. She didn't see anyone on her way downstairs. The kitchen was empty and so was the front room. Just as she was becoming convinced she might be alone, she discovered Stella in the library, buried in a book.

"Hi," Rose said.

Stella looked up and smiled. "Hey."

"Do you know where everyone is?"

"I heard my mother in her room earlier, but if she came out I didn't see her."

"Hhmm…you didn't see Jack either?"

"No. Why?"

"No reason. Just curious." She turned to leave.

"Rose?"

"Yes?" She looked at Stella over her shoulder.

"Thanks for letting me just go through your books like this."

Suddenly she seemed much smaller to Rose. "You're welcome," she said, pushing away a pang of regret.

She hurried back up the stairs. There was one other place he might be.

"I should have checked here first," she said, stepping into the attic.

Jack looked up from the drawing he was working on. "How'd you sleep?"

"Quite well, actually. I didn't realize I was so tired." She sat down in the chair next to him. "What are you working on?"

He moved to cover it with his arm. "You can't see this one yet."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a surprise."

"Uh-huh. So when do I get to see this surprise?"

"When it's finished."

"That clears things right up then."

"Hope so." He pushed it further down the table so she wouldn't be able to see it. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I am. That's why I came up here. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what I said last night. I know I already said that earlier, but I wanted to say it again anyway. I never realized how much actually seeing you with a child would affect me."

He covered her hand with his. "I understand. It was hard for me to see you with one too."

"But you could still have one," she pointed out. "I can't."

"Yeah—with someone else, but I don't want that. If it couldn't be with you, I wouldn't want it to ever happen."

"Jack, I don't tell you enough how grateful I am to have you in my life."

"You don't have to."

They gazed at each other for a moment. Speech had become unnecessary.

"You know what occurred to me?" Rose asked.

"That you're once again wearing my clothes? Not that I mind," he said, giving her a meaningful look.

"And why don't you mind?" she asked teasingly.

"Let's just say that you have qualities that my clothes sometimes bring out better than yours do, okay?"

"Hhm..vague, but I'll accept it."

"Seeing as how it's the only explanation you're getting right now, I'd say you have to," he said, grinning at his own cleverness.

Rose laced her fingers through his. "You wouldn't be willing to elaborate for me later would you?"

"You know, I just might be willing."

At that moment Rose's stomach decided to remind her that she hadn't eaten yet. "We really will have to finish this later," she said, slightly annoyed by her sudden need for food. "I need some breakfast…or lunch, rather."

"I do too, actually."

As they went downstairs she asked, "Have you seen Cynthia today?"

Jack hesitated before answering. Did he say no? "Yeah, I saw her this morning, but I don't know what she did after I went up to the attic."

Rose didn't respond. It seemed a bit odd, but she told herself not to think about it too much. There were a million explanations.

After they finished eating Rose went outside, notebook in hand. She hoped her mind might have settled enough that she could write. A crisp breeze blew her hair back as she settled into her usual tree. She shivered and wondered when it had started getting cold.

Jack stayed behind in the kitchen. Rose's question had caught him off guard. Where was Cynthia? He hadn't given much thought to where she'd gone after their argument. He hadn't seen her on his way to the attic, so he'd assumed she'd gone to her room. But it was a bit strange that she still hadn't come down.

Almost as if she had read his mind, Cynthia appeared in the doorway. "Oh. It's you," she said.

His back was to the door. "Last I checked it was," he said. Despite his even tone, he didn't turn around, choosing to ignore his mind's declaration of his incredible immaturity.

She crossed the room and took the chair Rose had just vacated, which gave her a clear view of the door. "Jack," she said, sounding—she hoped—sincere. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I said some things I shouldn't have."

He didn't answer right away. "I guess I can understand that," he said slowly. "And you seem like a great person—" _Are you lying?_ his mind asked. "—but there is no way anything could ever happen between us. I'm sorry if I did something to make you think it could."

She waved her hand dismissively and tried to appear contrite. "It's fine. I was wrong. Let's just leave it at that. You love Rose, and even though I don't understand why—"

"No, we're not going there," he interrupted, a slight edge in his voice. "If you knew her at all, you'd get it."

Cynthia could see a person's shadow moving along the wall, getting closer to the kitchen door and from the size of it, it belonged to an adult. "There I go again," she said. "Maybe I just don't think it's fair that she's always had so much. I mean, why should she get you too?" Before Jack realized what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him.


	87. Chapter 87

"What—" Rose said breathlessly, unable to form any other words, just as Jack shoved Cynthia away. He jumped up and turned around, hoping the voice he'd heard was just an hallucination. It wasn't. Rose looked as though she'd been struck—by him, he couldn't help but think.

"Rose—" he began, taking a step toward her.

"You—you—how could you do that?" she cried. It took Jack a second to realize she was looking past him.

Cynthia's face looked stunned, but her eyes held a flicker of triumph. "I didn't do anything!" she protested, her voice rising an octave. "He kissed me—"

"Don't you even think about saying anything else," Rose said. Her voice had grown frighteningly quiet. Her body was tense. "I want you out tomorrow." She turned and left the room.

Jack followed. "Rose!" he called, trying to keep up with her rapid pace. "Rose!" He followed her outside. They were almost in the woods before she finally stopped. She threw her head back and breathed deeply. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Rose, listen—"

She lowered her head. "There's nothing to listen to," she said.

"No, there is. You have to believe I didn't—" he said, growing a bit hysterical.

"I do," she said calmly.

"Look, I know—" He stopped. "Wait. What?"

"I do," she repeated. "You don't need to explain anything."

"How are you so sure I didn't do it?" He wanted desperately for her to believe he would never hurt her like that, but he was more than a little taken aback by how easily she had.

"Jack, almost since the first moment we met you've asked me to trust you, and I have. I trusted you even when I still thought you were just some crazy guy interrupting my suicide attempt to tell me stories about ice-fishing. I don't know why. But what I do know is, at no point in all the time I've known you has there ever been a reason for me not to."

"You really trust me that much?" He asked, amazed.

She nodded. "Yes, I do. It's like when Cal said you stole the Heart of the Ocean. No-one had to tell me you didn't. I just knew you wouldn't do that."

He pulled her into a crushing embrace. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do. And you know, that reminds me of when Cal showed up at that party demanding I give that damned diamond back to him. He was like a child demanding a toy back."

Jack froze. "That's why he was there?"

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

"I don't think you ever told me." _It really was my fault_, he thought, guilt twisting his stomach into knots.

"He thought we had it for some reason. I didn't understand why."

It was then or never. "Well, that's because we kind of do," he said nervously.

Rose just looked at him, her expression unreadable. She threw her head back and laughed. And laughed some more. She laughed until tears rolled from her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned by her response.

She wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm fine. It's just—it's just so funny. It doesn't make sense, but it is."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but the time kept being wrong. I didn't want to remind you of him at first, and then there was the incident in New York and then—"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," she said, cutting him off. "Not knowing didn't hurt me did it? I never even wanted it in the first place."

"Do you want to do something with it?" His relief was evident in his tone and the way his body had suddenly relaxed.

"Actually, there is something we could do with it. Where is it?"


	88. Chapter 88

As Rose was unlocking the safety deposit box the Heart of the Ocean was kept in, Jack found himself unable to hold back the thought that had consumed his mind since he'd told her about the diamond. "I know you said it was okay that I didn't tell you, but I'm not sure you really get how my not telling you has affected us," he said quickly.

She paused. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. If you'd known we had it you could have just given it to him. We could have avoided everything else that happened next." There was some part of Jack that wanted her to blame him. He knew it wouldn't change anything, but if it could all somehow be his fault it would make things easier. At least, that's what he kept thinking.

"I don't think that's true. Obviously it is in a literal sense, but how can we say something just as awful still wouldn't have happened even if we had given it back to him?"

"I actually never thought about it that way," he said pensively. "I've just been searching for a _reason_."

Rose sighed. "So have I. But maybe there just isn't one. Maybe no matter what we did or didn't do this was how things were going to end up—in one way or another." She opened the box. There it was. She really had never wanted it, but that didn't make it any less impressive. She picked it up and tucked it gingerly in her—Jack's—coat pocket, noting the irony of the gesture as she did it.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"Do you want to keep it?" she asked.

"Do you?"

She shook her head. "I think if I didn't have you I would." He raised an eyebrow. "It would have more meaning," she explained. "It would be a link to you, but I don't need it to be that because you're right here. So I'm going to give it to someone who might be better able to appreciate the spirit in which it was originally given to me. Does that make sense?"

"I see what you mean. But are you sure?"

"If I'm not I have the walk home to think about it."


	89. Chapter 89

Rose was sure she could feel Jack thinking the entire walk home. Even when they talked she could feel the heaviness of his thoughts. He hadn't said it, but she knew he was thinking about her—about what had just happened, about the way she had reacted. It was only natural that he would be confused. She was the one who did the reacting, and she wasn't sure she understood it herself. And yet she couldn't see herself doing anything else. As crazy as it sounded, she genuinely trusted him that much. She couldn't have explained it in words. It was just a feeling—a certainty. He would never willingly hurt her.

She hadn't said who exactly she wanted to give the diamond to, but she'd said enough to make it clear. He hadn't told her not to, but she sensed he had reservations about her decision. She didn't blame him. She did too. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Once they were back home she headed straight up the stairs, and he followed. She stopped and turned. "Please don't go with me," she said. "I need to do this by myself, okay?"

"Okay." He started back down the stairs.

"Jack?"

He looked back up at her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"If you don't know," she said, shaking her head and continuing up the stairs.

Cynthia threw open the door before Rose had a chance to lower her hand after knocking. "What do you want?" she asked, trying to mask her surprise. "Changed your mind? Want us to go now?"

"No. I actually wanted to give you something."

Cynthia eyed her suspiciously. "Why would you want to do a thing like that? I'm the bitch who just tried to steal your husband."

Rose smiled in spite of herself. Cynthia's wording made it seem much more comical than it really was. "You are that, but there was a time when you could have been more than that—at least, I had hoped you might be." She ignored Cynthia's expression. "Whether you believe that or not is unimportant. I know what you do believe. You believe I somehow cheated you out of something when I didn't. You said I kept our father from you, but I already told you I didn't have him any more than you did. In fact, I think you might have even had him more. It isn't my fault that I'm the one who got to grow up with the supposed privileges."

"You say supposed like it's so hard being a poor little rich girl," Cynthia snorted.

"It can be harder than you might think. There's more than one kind of unhappiness." Rose reached into her pocket. "But it doesn't matter. Your experiences are quite different from mine, and there's really nothing either of us can do about it. So I'm giving you this." She pulled the Heart of the Ocean out of her pocket and held it up.

Cynthia gasped loudly. She had never seen anything like it before. "This is a trick!"

"It isn't. I don't need it. To be honest, I never wanted it in the first place. Saying I don't care for the person who gave it to me would be an understatement. And as wonderful as the memory it is connected with might be I don't need it to remind me. You said it wasn't fair that I got to have everything, so here you go. Here's something." Rose dropped it into Cynthia's hands and was gone before she could say anything.

Cynthia didn't come out of her room for the rest of the day. Nothing existed but that diamond. After she'd looked at it so long her eyes burned, she turned her mind to the future. There was a lot she could do with the money she could get for it. She could finally have everything she'd always deserved.

The sound of a door closing snapped her out of her planning. Stella. She'd forgotten about her. It wasn't that she didn't care about her daughter because she did. Everything she'd done over the last two days had been for her, in some part at least. But now, holding what was surely the key to the life she'd always craved, she was faced with something she hadn't expected.

Rose sat on their bed, her head resting on her palms. It had been a draining day, and the pounding headache that had accompanied it wasn't helping. She didn't notice Jack sit down beside her.

"Mmmm," she said when she felt his fingertips gently begin to massage the base of her skull. "That helps."

"Hope so."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No. Do you?"

"No. I want to just..." She couldn't find the word, but he understood anyway.

"Exactly. Let's do that," he said with a smile. "Whatever that is."

Cynthia was gone when Jack got up the next morning. He passed her empty room, not surprised to see it that way. Stella's was empty too. He hadn't expected to—he didn't think it had been long enough—but he missed her. When he got downstairs, he realized he needn't have bothered.


	90. Chapter 90

AN: Hey guys, I really hope the last few chapters haven't sucked. I don't know why, just wanted to say that.

Stella was sitting in the kitchen. There was a book on the table in front of her, but it was closed. A folded up piece of paper was on top of it. She appeared calm—at least she did to Jack, who was becomingly decidedly un-calm.

"I thought your mother left," he said.

"She did." She half-smiled. "She just didn't take me with her." She picked up the paper. "It should all be in here." Jack stepped across the room and took the paper. As he began to read she said, "I got one too. I didn't read yours though."

Cynthia's note wasn't a long one. She apologized for trying to seduce Jack, thanked Rose for giving her the diamond, and went on to explain that she had realized Stella's place was with them. It didn't matter how much she loved her daughter because she could never understand her. But they, she thought, could.

Jack read the note three times, and after the third time he still wasn't sure if it said what he thought it did. "She…she just left you with us?" he said finally. "That doesn't make any sense." He started to read it again.

"It kind of does," Stella said.

He stopped reading. "You think so?"

"Kind of. I mean, my mother loves me and all, but there's this, I guess you could call it a gulf between us. Different things make us happy, and from what she said in my note, I think she decided I would be happier with you. She said you were like me, and I seemed more like your child than I ever had hers."

He silently took in what she'd said. "You're not really nine, are you?"

"No. I'm actually 40. I'm just extremely underdeveloped," she said dryly.

Jack laughed. "From the way you talk I could believe it. You really are advanced for your age."

She looked pleased. "Am I?"

"Oh yeah." He laid the paper on the table. Unsure of what else to do, he began preparing breakfast. No matter what they still had to eat.

"Jack?'

"Uh-huh."

"Are you and Rose going to keep me?"

He was startled by the question—and by how childlike she sounded. But of course, that's what she was, advanced or not, and right then she was a child whose mother had just left her without any warning. When he opened his mouth to answer he intended to say, "I don't know", but what he actually said was, "Yes." What else could he say?

"I'm glad," she said, digging into the food he handed her.

_So am I_, he added silently. He just hoped Rose would be too.


	91. Chapter 91

As they finished eating Jack heard Rose coming down the stairs. "Hey, could you go outside and…see if it's any colder today than it was yesterday?" he asked Stella, hearing how bogus the request sounded even as he said it.

"You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" she asked, though she didn't look offended, merely curious.

There wasn't enough time to bother lying. "Yeah, actually, I am. Think you could go along with it?" he asked, tilting his head.

She shrugged. "At least you were honest," she said, walking out of the kitchen and heading in the direction opposite the footsteps.

A few seconds later Rose appeared in the doorway. "I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone," she said. "I must be going crazy." She crossed the room and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"We need to talk about something," he said. "You did hear me talking to someone just now."

Rose wrinkled her forehead. "Who? I thought Cynthia was already gone."

"Yeah, she is. But she left alone." He watched Rose's expression change as the meaning of his statement sank in.

"You mean she—she left—with us?" Rose stuttered.

He nodded. "She left Stella with us." He handed her the note. "It's all in here."

Rose dropped into the nearest chair and quickly read the note. "What would make her decide this was the right thing to do?" she asked once she was finished. "I read it, but I still don't understand."

"I don't either," he admitted, pulling a chair up beside her. "But it's what she did."

"Can we really keep her?" She looked down at the letter and then at Jack. "I know she left her with us, but would that really be the right thing to do?"

"What else can we do? Who knows where Cynthia is by now? And I'll bet there isn't anyone else who could take her….we might be closest thing to family she has."

Rose sighed heavily. "A tiny part of me wished this would happen."

"Me too."

"But now that it has….Do you think we're ready for this? Just going from never having a child of our own to raising someone else's?"

"I believe we can do it. I really do," he said. "And who knows if this wasn't how it was supposed to be all along, you know? You said yourself how much Cynthia reminded you of your mother. Well, maybe this is your chance to save another little girl from growing up like that."

Rose pondered his words. "I just hope this doesn't come back on us somehow," she said finally.

Jack was saved from responding by the sound of footsteps—one set running, the other walking at normal speed. "What is that?" he asked, standing up. Rose stood up too. As they moved toward the door they heard a voice command, "Don't run like that—especially indoors!" Stella reached the kitchen a moment later. She leaned against the doorframe, slightly out of breath.

"Is my_ mother_ here?" Rose asked, dazed.

Suddenly Jack remembered all about his phone call to Ruth the previous day.


	92. Chapter 92

Twenty minutes later the three of them were sitting in the front room. Stella had escaped to the relative peace of the library. As Jack and Rose stared awkwardly at Ruth, they envied her. Jack was hoping fervently that Ruth wouldn't reveal the real reason for her sudden arrival. He didn't think it would anger Rose, but it wouldn't hurt to avoid talking about it, just in case. Rose was torn between seeing the situation as an improvement in her mother's relationship with them and hoping it wasn't a sign of future unannounced visits.

Unable to take the silence any longer, Rose took the plunge. "I don't want this to sound rude, but why are you here?"

Jack needn't have worried. Ruth had no intention of telling the truth. "I just had this sudden desire to see the two of you, that's all. But the real question here is: whose child is that?" she added before Rose could question her explanation.

Jack and Rose exchanged looks. "She's--she's Cynthia's," Rose said.

"Then where is Cynthia?"

"That is an excellent question," Jack said. "And one we do not have an answer for."

Ruth stared at them in disbelief. "She just left this girl with you? What are you going to do about it?"

"We're going to keep her," Rose said.

"Keep her?" Ruth's voice rose an octave.

"Mother!" Rose whispered harshly. "Keep your voice down. She'll hear you."

"Do you understand what you just said?" Ruth lowered her voice. "Do either of you _really_ understand?"

"We understand she doesn't have anyone else," Jack said. "How do we not keep her?"

"And what happens when you finally start having children of your own? How are you going to explain it to them?"

Jack felt Rose's body tense and reached over and took her hand. She responded by gripping it tightly. "We don't have to worry about that," Rose said, keeping her voice calm. "Because it's never going to happen."

"Just because it hasn't yet doesn't mean it won't," Ruth began.

"It won't," Rose cut her off. Her tone left no room for argument.

"How can you be so sure?" Ruth asked, stunned.

Jack glanced at Rose, who was staring at their clasped hands. "We just are," he said quietly.

Looking at them, Ruth knew better than to keep pressing the issue. "Well, what are you going to tell people when they ask where she came from? You're not old enough to be her parents."

"We will deal witht that when it comes," Rose said, lifting her head. "As for what people might say, I don't care and I doubt Jack does either." She looked over at him. He nodded in confirmation.

"You two don't know how to even begin taking care of a child," Ruth said, trying the last argument she could think of.

"Does anyone?" Jack said. "I mean, before they actually do it?"

He had her there. "I suppose you have a point," Ruth conceded.

Rose smiled over at him. "I didn't know we had a clue what we were doing at all."

He squeezed her hand. "We have kinda made it up as we went."

Ruth just shook her head, baffled by their unwavering belief in their ability to figure out a way to overcome anything.

"How long are you staying?" Rose asked.

"Oh, not long," Ruth assured her. "I had this strange feeling that you two might need me for some reason, but I can see you're handling things just fine." She shot a quick look at Jack.

"Looks like," he said.

Later that afternoon Jack and Rose found themselves, relatively, alone. Ruth was upstairs napping--it was impossible to sleep on a train, she'd said--and Rose had discovered Stella asleep among a pile of books in the library. After he carried her upstairs, Jack joined Rose outside on the front steps. She leaned forward, hugging her knees.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"I'm okay. I was just...thinking." She looked off into the distance. "She isn't right, is she?"

"I don't think she is. Do you?"

Rose shook her head. "I just can't help wondering, you know?"

He brushed back the curls that had fallen over her face. "It's okay to be unsure. I feel that way all the time."

"You do?" She looked at him, surprise in her eyes.

"Well, yeah." He grinned. "Did you think I didn't?"

"Kind of," she admitted, avoiding his eyes. "You always seem so.._confident._" She leaned her head on his arm. "I don't know how you do it, but I always feel like nothing can go wrong when you're around."

"I _am_ confident. I'm confident that I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy. I'm confident that I love you more than anything. But that doesn't mean I don't worry I might be making the wrong choice sometimes. It's just worked out so far," he added, chuckling.

She took his hand and stood up. "Come on," she said, tugging him to his feet.

He eyed the darkening sky. "Might not be a good idea," he said. He followed her anyway.

They made it a half mile before the rain started. The temperature had been dropping gradually all week, but that morning had started off unseasonably warm--a warmth which seemed to end the moment the first raindrops began to fall. By the time they made it back to the house they were both soaked. Hands clasped, they ran inside, stifling giggles as they went. They hurried up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible.

As Jack opened their bedroom door, Rose suddenly noticed the way the rain had transformed his white shirt into an almost clear one. He wasn't wearing an was barely aware of stepping into the room and closing the door behind them.

"Hey, sweet Rose, you're shivering," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "You need to get out of that wet dress, don't you think?"

"What?" She stopped staring at his chest long enough to answer. "Oh." She reached around herself and fumbled for the buttons to her dress. "Could you help me?"

"Sure." He stepped behind her and quickly undid the small buttons. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and shrugged. The dress slid from her body.

It was Jack's turn to stare.

Feeling his eyes on her, Rose looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes?" The few seconds she'd spent not looking at him had allowed her to regain her composure.

"Come here."


	93. Chapter 93

"We have to get up."

Rose shook her head before realizing he couldn't see her. Their bodies were curled together, his head resting on her chest, cradled in her arms. "Do we have to?" she asked.

"I think we do. One of them's gonna wonder where we are."

"I can just imagine my mother stumbling in on us like this," Rose said, a trace of humor in her voice.

"I'd rather not."

She bent down and kissed his hair. "Then we'll get up--because we must."

He raised his head and caught her lips. "We can always come back later."

"Promise?"

A few minutes later they were dressed and heading downstairs, where they found, to their surprise, no-one. It seemed Stella and Ruth had yet to wake up.

"Guess we didn't have to get up after all," Jack said.

"If I weren't so hungry I'd be annoyed," Rose said, letting a smile escape.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.. "I'd be shocked if you weren't hungry," he said into her hair.

"Jack!" she scolded through clenched teeth. Even though the only two people within at least a mile radius were a floor above them she still worried they might hear something, though when they were completely alone she still had fears someone would hear them.

"I'm sorry." He kissed her curls. "I'll be good."

They were just about to start eating dinner when first Ruth and then Stella wandered into the kitchen. Both looking somewhat bleary-eyed, they each took seats at the table and were silent as Jack handed them plates of food. For a few minutes the four of them ate in silence. Ruth noticed that Jack and Rose had changed their clothes since she'd last seen them, but she chose to believe they were heading in the right direction and had started dressing for dinner. Though she didn't understand why they chose to eat in the kitchen when they had a perfectly good dining room. During her last visit she had been shocked to see it was empty, almost as if they didn't realize it was there. In fact, she'd been shocked to see most of the house had been left empty. There were rooms she wondered if they had ever even bothered to go in at all, but she held her tongue. There was always a chance they would come to their senses--or Jack would discover he had some.

"Did you sleep well?" Rose asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, thank you," Ruth said.

"I don't remember going to sleep," Stella said. She sounded annoyed with herself. "I don't even remember going upstairs."

"I took you upstairs," Jack explained. "You fell asleep on a pile of books."

"Oh. That makes more sense," she said, satisfied the mystery had been solved.

As silence threatened to descend upon them once more, Rose asked, "How long did you say you were staying?"

"I'll probably leave tomorrow," Ruth answered. She knew how strange her behavior seemed, but she didn't see the point of staying any longer. And, being honest with herself, she didn't relish the idea of watching Jack and Rose navigate their way through something she was sure would, despite their best efforts, fail.

Rose nodded, breathing a quiet sigh of relief to herself. She loved her mother and appreciated how much effort she was making, but that didn't make her any less eager to limit their time together.

"So, what were you thinking of doing about school?" Ruth asked, taking the conversation in an unexpected new direction.

"What?" Jack and Rose answered in unision. Stella watched the scene unfolding in front of her, curious as to where Ruth was going.

"For Stella. She has to go to school, you know."

Jack and Rose exchanged glances. If Stella hadn't been in the room right then they would have pointed out to Ruth that they'd only just adopted her--however unofficial it was--that morning, and therefore, had not had time to remember details like that. As it was, Jack avoided the issue by saying, "It's already November, so schools are going to be getting out for the holidays anyway. We thought we'd wait until spring to deal with it."

Stella looked visibly relieved. Seeing her expression, Rose asked, "Do you even want to go to school?"

"No," she answered.

"You can't let a child decide something like that," Ruth said, shocked they would even entertain such a notion. One by one they were destroying her dreams of one day seeing them settle into "normalcy."

"She is the one who has to go," Jack pointed out. "But I'm not sure what she'll do if she doesn't."

"You could teach me," Stella suggested eagerly. She looked at Rose. "I know you could."

"I--I suppose I could," Rose said slowly. It was a novel idea, but would it actually work?

Ruth couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you seriously thinking of teaching her yourself?"

"I think I am," Rose said, suddenly attached to the idea. "But just until spring," she added quickly.

Stella chose not to hear the last part. "You mean it?"

Rose looked over at Jack, who smiled and shrugged. "If that's what you want to do," he said. She looked back at Stella. "Yes."

After dinner--and after Stella had been sent outside to breathe real air--Ruth cornered them. "Do you realize what you're getting yourselves into?" she asked.

"I think we went over this already," Jack said.

"Perhaps we did, but you've just added another level of insanity I feel the need to address."

"And that is?" Rose asked, pretending she didn't already know the answer.

"Do you really think you're capable of educating that child? And even if you are, how can you be sure you'll still want to after some time has passed?"

"I do think I'm--we're--quite capable. And as for still wanting to, it won't be forever," Rose said.

"That's what you say now," Ruth said with a sigh. She wished, just once, they would listen to her, conveniently forgetting all the things she had been wrong about where they were concerned.


	94. Chapter 94

AN: I should be getting my other stories updated in the next day or so. There was some uncertainty about where I wanted them to go, but that may be cleared up now.

Ruth left early the next morning, still convinced Jack and Rose were making a huge mistake. To her credit, she didn't mention it again. Only Rose and Stella were up to see her go. Jack was still in bed, which given how early he usually got up, was causing Rose more than a little concern. Once her mother was finally gone, she went back upstairs to check on him. When she'd left he'd been sound asleep, and she'd told herself there wasn't anything wrong with that. As a habitual late sleeper herself it was his habit of rising with the sun that she could never understand. Before she even got their bedroom door open, she could hear him coughing.

Stepping inside she saw him, his legs swung over the side of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bent down, hands over his face in what looked more like an attempt to muffle the sound than to stop the possible spread of germs. "Jack, are you okay?' she asked anxiously, rushing over to him. She dropped down next to him on the bed and laid her hands on his back.

He raised his head and lowered his hands. "I'm okay," he said, trying to sound better than he was. "I think I woke up with a cold is all." He managed a small smile. "That'll teach me to play in the rain."

Rose wasn't convinced. "How do you feel? Is it just the coughing?"

"Yeah," he lied. "It's nothing, sweet Rose." He hauled himself to his feet. "I'm fine."

He maintained he was fine for the rest of the day, and though he moved with a heaviness he didn't normally have, Rose was forced to admit he might just have a cold after all. That didn't stop her from refusing to let him out of her sight. She was determined to see any new symptoms the moment the appeared. If she saw them, he couldn't hide them she reasoned. None appeared. However, what she didn't know, and what he was determined she not know, was the coughing was slowly getting worse.

He had all the symptoms of a severe cold, though he was doing his best to hide them. He knew going about his day like normal was probably just making the illness worse, but he had never been the type to admit when he was sick. Not wanting Rose to worry about him gave him the perfect reason to go on like nothing was wrong.

The next day he woke up and discovered it hurt to swallow. He felt his throat and thought he could feel a swelling. He groaned and tried to sit up, but his head started spinning the second he lifted it off the pillow. He fell back, defeated.

"Jack?" Rose sat up, awakened by his movement. He was paler than usual and his eyes were dull. "There is no way you can say you feel fine," she said. "I can tell just by looking at you that you don't."

"No sense arguing, huh?" he whispered, afraid of worsening his throat.

"No." Rose climbed out of bed and came around to his side. She bent down and laid her wrist against his forehead. "You're not hot, but you don't feel quite normal." She straightened her body. "Even so, I think you should stay in bed."

"You might be onto something with that."

She pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking it around him. He smiled up at her. "Okay. I'm going to go get you some juice and aspirin," she said, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face.

"Okay." He closed his eyes. "I'll be here."

"You'd better be," she warned. She grabbed her robe from where she'd tossed it the night before and quickly put it on, tying the belt. She wasn't wearing anything but one of Jack's shirts and didn't want to waste time getting dressed. Even if Stella hadn't been there, she probably wouldn't have let herself go downstairs in just a shirt. It wouldn't have mattered if the entire rest of the house was empty, as it normally was, because she couldn't help thinking someone might, somehow, see her. Having made herself somewhat decent, she hurried downstairs.

In the kitchen she found orange juice but no aspirin. She poured some juice into a glass and hurried back upstairs. "Here," she said, lowering herself gently onto the bed next to him. He managed to pull himself into enough of a sitting position that he could drink without choking to death. "Thanks," he said, his eyes brightening briefly.

"I couldn't find any aspirin," she said. "I'm sorry."

"I think there's some in the bathroom. I should have said something before."

She checked, and sure enough there it was in the cabinet behind the mirror. Carrying the bottle she resumed her former place beside him. "Hold out your hand." She poured two pills into his palm. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them with the last of the juice. He handed her the glass and lay back. She pulled the blanket back up to his chin. "Try to rest," she commanded, kissing his forehead. "I'll come back later to see how you are, okay?" He nodded, already drifting off.

Back downstairs again, she collapsed onto the couch in the library. She'd known he wasn't okay the day before, but he was too stubborn to admit it. She just hoped he didn't get any worse.

"Hey Rose," Stella said, coming into the library.

Rose smiled. "Good morning Stella."

"Is Jack okay? He's usually up by now."

"He'll be fine," Rose assured her. "He's just not feeling well today. Are you hungry?" Stella nodded. "So am I. Come on. I'll try to make us breakfast."

Stella eyed the pot of oatmeal suspiciously. She didn't want to say what she was thinking, but she didn't really want to eat it either. "You're right," Rose said, seeing her expression. "This is not my area."

"It's probably not so bad," Stella said, trying to sound encouraging.

"Well, let's not tell Jack. He'll try and pretend he's better so we won't starve to death."

"I doubt it'll come to actual starving," Stella said. "How long can he stay sick anyway?"

"You're right. And in the meantime we'll get by just fine." Rose looked at the oatmeal. "Maybe if we added cinnamon?"

After breakfast, not that either of them wanted to call it that, Rose sent Stella to the library and headed back upstairs to get dressed and check on Jack. She was relieved to find him soundly. She brushed her hand against his forehead. He felt normal, which was a good sign. She grabbed some pants and a shirt and stepped into them—there wasn't any point that she could see in trying to make herself "presentable"—and finished by running a brush through her tangled curls.

"I'm not exactly sure how to go about teaching you, but I'm willing to try." she began, once she was back in the library. "And I think the first thing we should do is figure out _what_ you need to be studying."

"Well, I'm supposed to be in the fourth grade," Stella offered helpfully.

"I'm not even sure I remember what I did in the fourth grade," Rose said. "Mostly I remember being somewhat bored by it all."

"School bores me too."

Rose had an idea. "What do _you_ want to learn?"

Stella wasn't sure how to answer. No-one had ever asked her that before. "Can it be anything?"

"Pretty much, I suppose."

And so they began.


	95. Chapter 95

AN: I've tried to make the next part as historically accurate as possible, but if I've gotten anything wrong I'm sorry. Let me know what you think of where it is/has been going.

Over the next few days Rose slowly began to construct a curriculum for Stella. After breakfast they would study history, literature, and philosophy. After lunch they would take a walk together and discuss political and economical theories. Rose had just discovered the concept of socialism and quickly passed it on to Stella so she would have someone to talk about it with. As the days passed Rose's original belief in Stella's potential was confirmed—she was just as intelligent as she'd seemed all along. All she needed was someone to help her focus her thoughts, connect the dots between all the things she'd already read about.

Jack began to improve, and after a few days in bed he felt good enough to get up and—"Slowly," Rose had commanded—go about his usual routine. For the most part he did feel better, though the coughing hadn't stopped. He tried to hold it in when Rose was around. She would just worry, and he was sure it was nothing. Sometimes it took a bit longer to get over some symptoms than others, that was all. They didn't say it, but Stella and Rose were both relieved when he was feeling well enough to take over the cooking again. Not only did it mean he was finally better, it also meant they didn't have to endure Rose's culinary attempts anymore. Though she had managed to make a decent pot of soup for Jack.

One afternoon about a week after he'd declared himself recovered, he found himself tiptoeing up to the library door. He wanted to see what they did without startling them out of their usual routine. He saw Rose and Stella sitting cross-legged on the floor. Rose held a book in her hands and was reading from it while Stella took notes. They were so absorbed in what they were doing he doubted they would have noticed if he'd walked in and sat down with them. They looked so happy together. _See things are working out just fine_, he thought as he headed up to the attic, ignoring the way breathing and walking up the stairs had suddenly become difficult.

Over the next few weeks he continued to try to ignore the way his coughing fits steadily worsened. The coughing was the kind that can only be described as "wet." His body would shake and he would feel as if his lungs were being ripped apart. Breathing was slowly becoming painful, and one day he discovered if he breathed deeply his breaths would come out sounding as wet as his coughs. Eventually he started getting chest pains. He tried to go on as though nothing was wrong, but after the third week, Rose put a stop to it.

She confronted him when he tried to get out of bed. He had no sooner sat up then she pushed him back down. "What're you doing?" he asked, confused by the sudden attack.

She stood over him, arms crossed. "Taking care of you," she said. "If you won't admit there's something wrong, I'll admit it for you."

There was no use arguing. He felt like he was dying. He had been hoping it would just clear up on its own—_Sometimes that happens_, he'd told himself though he honestly couldn't think of a single time it had—but obviously that wasn't in the cards for him.

"I didn't want you to worry," he said. The second the words left his mouth he was overcome by a coughing fit.

Rose sighed heavily. "Jack, listen to you!" She sat down beside him and took one of his hands in hers. "I've been worrying about you for days. I was just hoping you'd come to your senses and stop pretending you're fine when you're not." She stroked his hand. His skin was colder than it should have been. "I love you. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not gonna lose me," he said. "I didn't survive a ship sinking and barely escape freezing to death just to let a little sickness separate us."

"You're right. That's why you're not getting up. And that's why I'm calling a doctor. We're going to find out what's wrong with you and what to do about it. You may not like it, but right now you have to let me take care of you—the way you take care of me," she added.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rose smiled. "That makes two of us."

The local doctor came that afternoon. Rose paced outside their door while he examined Jack. She hadn't told Stella anything. It had seemed best to avoid upsetting her. She'd sent her outside for the afternoon, saying she needed to get the fresh air before it got too cold. The sound of the door opening stopped her in her tracks. "How is he?" she asked anxiously as the doctor stepped into the hallway.

"Can I be honest with you Mrs. Dawson?"

"I don't want anything else. Please, tell me."

"Well, from the looks of it he has pneumonia. Now—"

"How did he get it?"

"What seems to be the case is a person will come down with a regular cold or maybe flu, and something happens to make it turn into this. Was he sick before this?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, he had a cold a few weeks ago, but it seemed to go away—until he started getting worse, that is."

"That's how it usually goes, though his case may have advanced faster than usual. I'm not sure why. Sometimes these things just happen. He hasn't had any severe illnesses before has he?"

"Not—not while I've known him," Rose said. She didn't think she'd ever seen him sick before this. Except—"He did have hypothermia once."

"It's possible if it was bad enough it could have weakened his body's ability to fight these things off."

"Will he die?" Rose didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.

"I honestly don't know. Some people die, some people don't. There isn't a lot we've discovered we can do for this. The best thing he can do is stay in bed and avoid straining his lungs. He's going to do a lot of coughing, but that's good. It's the only way he can get what's in his lungs out. And if he gets it out he'll be able to breathe better. He's susceptible to fevers, so try and keep his temperature down as best you can. If his ability to breathe worsens you might see a blueness around his mouth—that's from lack of oxygen. Of course, there are other symptoms, but he doesn't seem to have them right now so don't worry about those just yet."

"Isn't there anything you can give him?"

"You could try having him chew on charcoal tablets, sometimes that helps. They shouldn't be that hard to find, but I'll write you something for them anyway."

"Okay." Rose sounded dazed. "You can't tell me how long it'll take for him to get over this, can you?"

"I'm afraid not. In a way, it's really up to him. It depends on how well he fights it."

"Can I get it?" she asked, though the answer wouldn't keep her away from Jack, not for a second.

"You can, but unless you're sick yourself it seems unlikely. However, if you have children it wouldn't hurt to keep them away from him."

"I understand. Thank you," she said. She sounded as if she were a million miles away—and in a way, she was. She had heard everything he'd said, but there was a part of her that couldn't accept it. Jack could not die. They had been through too much for him to die just as things were finally working out for them.

"I'll let myself out," he said. Rose nodded. He doubted she'd even heard him.

Stella sat in one of the trees in front of the house and watched him come outside. As he passed under the tree she called down to him, "Will he die?"

The doctor looked up, startled to hear a voice coming from above. "Who? Your father?"

She didn't bother to correct him. Secretly she liked to think that maybe Jack was her father. Then Rose would be her mother. It wasn't that she didn't love her actual mother—she did, it was just that she felt so much closer to them though she couldn't have explained exactly why. "Yes," she said.

There was something about this little girl that made him want to tell her the truth. She had an air about her that belonged to a much older person. But he lied anyway. "He'll be fine. He just needs rest is all."

Stella accepted his answer without argument, but she didn't believe it. As she watched him leave, she was overwhelmed by fear. It was entirely possible that Jack really would be fine, but what if he wasn't?

Rose was thinking the same thing. She leaned her head against the wall and willed herself to be calm. She couldn't go in there unless she calmed down. No matter how sick he was, Jack would be able to tell something was wrong, and worrying about her would just drain any energy he did have. He needed all his strength to get better. She couldn't let herself be a distraction.

She was so focused on convincing herself there wasn't a possibility of him dying, she didn't notice the tears begin rolling down her cheeks. They came slowly at first, but then faster and faster. Before she knew it, she had sunk to her knees and was sobbing heavily. "He can't die," she whispered to herself, rocking back and forth. "He can't."


	96. Chapter 96

"Find out anything?" Jack asked hoarsely.

"Just that you need to rest," Rose said briskly. She smoothed his hair. "You need to get as much rest as possible."

"That doesn't sound too hard." He smiled weakly. He knew there was something she wasn't telling him. He could hear it in her voice.

"Doesn't, does it?" She tried to return his smile, but only managed a half. She wanted so badly to be strong for him. She couldn't let him see how scared she was. It would only take his mind off getting better. She brushed her palm across his forehead and down his cheek, suppressing a gasp at how hot his skin felt. "I'm going to get you something," she said. "You feel a bit warm."

He could tell just from the way he felt that he had to be more than a "bit" warm, but he didn't argue with her. She was trying to protect him from something, that much was obvious. As the sound of her footsteps faded he wondered just how bad things looked for him.

It didn't take her long to return. She had aspirin in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. "Here, take these," she said. He lifted his head as she handed him the pills and the glass. "Thanks." He swallowed the pills with a gulp of juice and collapsed onto the pillow, handing the glass back to her. She pressed his hand and turned to go. She didn't want to leave, but there wasn't anything more she could do for him, not right then at least. _He looks exhausted. He_'_ll sleep better without me standing over him,_ she thought. _And he really does need to rest._

He grabbed her hand as she started to walk away. She whipped her head around. "What is it?' she asked anxiously.

"Will you stay with me?" He looked up at her pleadingly.

"Jack, you need to sleep."

"I know, and I'm going to. It's just—" A coughing fit cut him off mid-sentence. Rose winced as she watched his body shake. She wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him as tightly as she could, to somehow cure him with her love. "I'll sleep better with you here," he finished when he could speak again.

She sat down beside him. "I'll stay." She settled for holding his hand tightly. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."


	97. Chapter 97

"How bad is it?' Jack asked. He was sitting up in bed, a hot cup of tea in his hands. Rose was fluttering around the room, dusting and re-dusting items that were already clean. It had been three weeks since his first visit from the doctor, and he was about to have another though Rose had yet to tell him what exactly was wrong with him. She'd avoided the subject whenever he brought it up, always finding something else to talk about instead. As much as she hated the thought of sleeping away from him, she had tried to move into another room temporarily, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"Why would you leave?" he'd asked when she'd suggested it.

"You need your rest," she'd said, smoothing his hair and trying to sound gently authoritative.

"I know, but you being down the hall isn't going to help me do that."

"Jack, I'm just trying to do what's best."

"You being close to me is what's best."

Eventually they'd settled on a compromise: Rose would sleep in the floor next to the bed. Jack hadn't been happy about it, but he didn't have the strength to do any more arguing. He understood what Rose was trying to do and he loved her all the more for it.

And now here they were.

"Rose?" he said. She kept her back to him but she stopped moving. If she could have put off having this conversation for the rest of their lives she would have.

"Yes?"

"Rose, please answer me. I've asked you—I don't even know how many times, and you change the subject every time. How bad is it?"

Rose sighed. She turned to face him. "I don't know."

"What do you mean? What did the doctor say when he was here before?"

"He said you had pneumonia, that it was an advanced case and there was a chance your body's ability to fight it off had been compromised because you had hypothermia," she said quickly and with as little emotion as possible. She was doing her best to avoid becoming upset. "He also said there was a chance you might die." She turned around and went back to her organizing.

Jack let her words settle in his mind. It all made sense now. He'd suspected things looked bad for him given the way she'd been acting, but he hadn't let his suspicions go that far. _I could die_, he thought as yet another coughing fit overtook him. Rose hurried to his side and took the cup of tea from his hands. "Let me hold that," she said.

"Thanks," he said when he could speak again. He smiled as he took the cup back. He sipped from it slowly. Rose tried to return the smile but she could only manage a slight twitching at the corners of her lips. She moved to walk away. "Rose." She stopped.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm going to die?"

_How can you ask me that?_ "What?" Her voice shook in spite of her best efforts to keep it steady.

"I'm not trying to upset you. I would never do that. I just want to know...do you think I'll come out of this?"

Rose looked at the floor. "I-I want you to, but I'm afraid..." Her throat tightened. She closed her eyes.

"Rose, come here," he ordered gently. She stepped closer to him. "No, sit down." He reached up and guided her onto the bed with his hand. "Open your eyes and look at me." She was shocked by the determination she saw buring in his blue eyes. "I am not going to die, not now, not like this. I don't care what you were told. It isn't going to happen."

"Let me check your temperature," Rose said, swallowing tears.


	98. Chapter 98

Stella was passing by their room just was as Rose was announcing Jack's temperature. "100," she heard her say, relief in her voice. "It's gone down a bit." Stella stopped. She pressed her face against the crack between their door and the wall. Jack was sitting in bed sipping tea. Rose sat next to him, thermometer in hand.

"See, I'm improving," Jack said grinning.

Rose smiled weakly. She didn't consider a drop from a temperature of 102 to 100 to be much of an improvement. "At two you can have another dose of aspirin. Maybe that will help bring it down some more. The doctor should be here not long after that." She stood up slowly.

"Leaving already?" he joked. He didn't expect her to laugh or even smile. Even through his fevery haze he could see how hard the past few weeks had been on her. As much as she tried to hide her fear it showed through. Her eyes were heavy and rimmed with black circles. Though she was clean and her hair was combed she'd been wearing the same shirt and pair of Jack's pants she'd put on the morning after his illness had been discovered. But that didn't stop him from trying.

"I'll be back soon," Rose said, guilt in her voice. He had to know she didn't want to leave him. "I have to go see about Stella. She's been alone too much lately."

_No!_ Stella cried silently. _Stay with him. I'm fine the way I am. He needs you more than I do_

She'd only been with them for a month or so, but she was already more attached to both of them than her stoic nature cared to admit. No-one had ever cared about what went on in her mind the way Rose did. Rose talked to her as though she were an adult. She asked her questions and encouraged her to think about things. Stella loved her mother, though she didn't fool herself into hoping she would see her again, but she loved Rose almost as much. And Jack-she didn't know how to describe her feelings for Jack. She couldn't remember her own father, didn't know where he was or what had happened to him. It had never mattered before. She was smart enough to know her mother wouldn't have told her even if she'd asked. During her short life she'd watched her mother take up with one man after another, always searching for The One. The One who would finally Take Care of Them. When her mother said that phrase-as she did often-Stella heard the words with capital letters. None of them were The One though. She suspected it had something to do with her.

The sound of a creaking floorboard snapped her back to reality. Rose had moved closer to the door. The guilty look in her eyes was gone. She was trying her best to smile. Annoyed with herself for getting lost in her own head-_Like I always do-_Stella realized she'd missed a portion of the conversation.

"I love you," she heard Rose say, kissing her fingertips and laying her hand flat, palm up, pointing it in his direction. Jack grinned and pretended to catch something. "I love you too," he said.

Stella ran down the hall and down the stairs, hoping Rose couldn't her hear footsteps echoing in the silent house. She dove onto the couch in the library and grabbed the nearest book. When Rose came into the library she looked as though she'd been sitting there for hours.

"Hi," she said, looking up from a page she hadn't been reading. She had a pretty good idea of how Jack was already, but she asked anyway.

"Oh, he's doing better," Rose said, sitting down beside her. Stella wished she were older so Rose wouldn't feel the need to lie to her. It didn't matter how intelligent she was. She was still only a child, and Rose never forgot that. "What are you reading?" Rose asked, leaning forward to see the cover of her book. "_The Communist Manifesto_, again?"

"Well, it's fascinating." _Probably should have checked the title before grabbing. Now she'll know I haven't been here all along. _

But Rose either believed her or was too distracted by the situation with Jack-or perhaps both-to question her explanation. "You're right," she said. She was about to say something else when the sound of the phone ringing caught her attention. "I'll be right back," she called, dashing off to the kitchen.

Rose grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Rose?" She recognized her mother's voice immediately.

"Yes, mother."

"You don't sound like yourself. What's wrong?" Ruth demanded.

Rose tried to brighten her tone. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

"What has he done?"

Rose couldn't help but smile. In spite of all her mother's progress she was still ready to blame Jack for something the first chance she got. "Jack hasn't done anything. Why are you calling?"

"I just wanted to ask how you are-all of you." There was an apologetic note in her voice.

"We're-" _Fine. Say fine._ "-fine," she said unconvincingly.

"Rose."

"We are."

"You don't sound fine. Now, if he didn't do something, what's wrong?"

It was the first time her mother had ever asked her what was wrong. She couldn't take it. "J-Jack's not okay," she said, her voice trembling.

Her mother was all business. "Explain."

Rose quickly explained about his illness and what the doctor had said. Ruth sighed heavily when she had finished. "You didn't get a second opinion?"

"No," Rose said, feeling ashamed of herself.

"Well, even if your information is accurate, there must be _something_ more that can be done for him. I'll call you back." And with that Ruth hung up. Rose stared at the phone in her hand. Had her mother really said what she thought she'd said?

Ruth was staring at the phone she had just hung up. She had never expected to promise-though not in so many words-to find a way to help Jack. Of course, she had never expected to _care_ whether or not Jack lived or died. Her-affection wasn't the right word-whatever it was for him had spoken for her. She had heard the thinly veiled desperation in Rose's voice, and something in her had responded to it. The realist in her said Rose would get over it if Jack died. Husbands died all the time, but still there was a part of her that didn't agree. It was the part of her that looked over at Thomas sometimes and wondered, "What if..?"And it was that part that said she was going to find a way to help him-whether she liked it or not.


	99. Chapter 99

Ruth was still staring at the phone when Thomas wandered into the room a few minutes later. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," she said. "Possibly." She sounded distant.

She didn't look or sound like herself. "Dear, what is it? Did someone call? Was it Rose?" He knew he'd asked three questions at once, but she wasn't giving him much to go on.

"I called her," she said, snapping out of her daze.

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Jack isn't. He's ill, from what I understand."

"Is it serious?"

"She seems to think it is."

"'Seems to think'-did she say it was?"

"Yes, but she's always been a bit irrational where he's concerned." Ruth knew she sounded callous, but she wasn't eager for him to know she was actually concerned about Jack herself.

"Why do I think she hasn't been as irrational as you might have me believe?" Thomas asked, giving her a pointed look.

Ruth chose to ignore him. "Well, I told her I'd see what I could do to help. He's got her all alone, practically cut off from civilization. It's no wonder she's getting a bit hysterical."

Thomas could hear the concern under the criticism. "What are you planning to do?"

"I was just trying to decide that when you came in, actually."

"Well, it doesn't seem like there's much you can do from here."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing. Just a thought."

Ruth sighed. He was right. Even if there had been something she could do-despite being several states away-it wouldn't have been enough to satisfy her. She was more than a do-er. She was the kind of do-er who has to oversee everything to make sure it goes exactly the way it's supposed to.

And then it came to her. How she could help.

When the doctor came that afternoon Jack insisted Rose stay in the room with him. Her revelation had shaken him to his core, though he would never have admitted it, and he didn't want her getting any bad news alone. But he'd meant what he'd said. Despite how high the odds might be stacked against him, he was determined to live.

Rose watched from across the room while the doctor examined Jack, checking his temperature and listening to him breathe. "Well, you've got a fever, but it isn't as bad as it could be. Only 100."

_Why didn't it go down?_ Rose searched her brain, trying to think of something else she could have done to help his fever break.

"How am I?" Jack asked, once the doctor was finished with him. The doctor's eyes shifted from Jack to Rose and back to Jack again. "I know what you told her before. Tell me," Jack insisted. There was a part of him that couldn't help but be angry Rose had been given that kind of news in the first place. _He _should have been the one told. Not because she couldn't handle it-he knew she could-but because she shouldn't have had to. At least, not in his mind.

"You're doing a bit better," the doctor said. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "But you're by no means over the worst of it yet, judging from the sound of your lungs." He shook his head. "I can't understand why a man your age and in your shape is having so much trouble fighting this off, but you're going to have to find a way to do so if you want to make it through."

The water had done it. Jack had always thought of himself as a strong person, physically and otherwise. He'd worked with his hands, braved the elements-it hadn't even been his first experience with icy water-but that first experience had been nothing compared to the night of the sinking. His father hadn't been there to pull him out mere minutes after his body plunged into the water. And now here he was, weakened-probably forever-and it was doubtful if he would be able to save himself.

_I don't care what it takes. I'm not giving up. I'm not dying. _

Unbeknownst to them all, Stella had crept up the stairs and was once again peeking through crack between the door and the wall, grateful none of them had thought to actually _close_ the door. Her hands balled into fists when she heard the doctor say Jack could die. She saw Rose's face tighten and wished she could run over to her. "I feel the same way!" she wanted to say. Though, of course, she couldn't possibly feel the same way. The rational part of her knew that. There was no comparison between Rose's feelings for Jack and her own. But she wanted to say it just the same. She held her breath as she watched Jack take in the information. She watched his blue eyes change from fearful to determined. He set his jaw. She let out a sigh. She hadn't realized it, but she'd been so afraid he would just give up.

Rose saw the changes in Jack's face too. Suddenly it was as though she were hearing his words for the first time. _"Rose, I'm not gonna die." _No, he wasn't. Not if there was anything he could do about it he wasn't.


	100. Chapter 100

AN: The 100th chapter! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and subscribed to and read this story. I really enjoy writing it, and I'm glad there are so many people who enjoy reading it.

As Ruth watched the countryside whiz by through the train window, she couldn't help but wish for the days when the mere mention of Jack's name sent her into a fury. It was all so much simpler then. Had this happened a year earlier she wouldn't have cared at all whether he lived or died—probably, she told herself, she would have been hoping he'd die. But the simplicity of hatred had been replaced—when?—by a grudging respect that occasionally bordered on something close to—but wasn't quite—affection.

Thomas sat beside her, contentedly working a newspaper crossword puzzle. She considered telling him how she felt—he would listen, she was sure of that—but she doubted he'd understand unless she told the whole sordid story. And she wasn't planning to ever do that if she could help it. On his left sat Peter Stevens—Dr. Peter Stevens. If Rose wouldn't—or couldn't, which seemed likely to Ruth given the barbaric conditions in which they lived—get a second opinion about Jack's condition, then _she _would. _I've gone through too much hell because of this boy for him to die now. _

They arrived early the next morning, and as they walked the mile and a half that stood between the edge of town and the house, Ruth was again baffled by Rose's willingness to live so far away from _everything_. Didn't she know what she was missing? Didn't she _care_? As much as Ruth had managed to accept the marriage of Jack and Rose, she still couldn't understand why they lived the way they did. _It isn't as though they have to. _Jack hadn't answered her when she asked about their money, but she knew from listening to what he and others said—much to her surprise she'd discovered people she knew mentioned his name occasionally—they had more than enough to live her definition of a life.

"They don't have a bell," she said as the trio made their way up the front steps. "We'll have to knock."

Stella answered Thomas's knock. She peered up at them, blinking in the bright morning sun. She looked puzzled, but then a flash of recognition crossed her face. "You're Rose's mother," she said.

"Yes, I am," Ruth said, not unkindly. "Where is she?"

"She's upstairs with Jack. Come on," Stella said, motioning for them to follow her into the house. She led them into the library. "You can sit down," she said, sounding much older than her nine years.

"Thank you," Thomas said with a smile. He took a seat in a chair near the fireplace. Dr. Stevens sat on the couch. Stella took up her usual position on the floor. Ruth stayed standing. "She'll be down soon," Stella said. And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than they heard the sound of Rose's footsteps.

Rose was so absorbed in her thoughts that at first she didn't notice the three extra people in the room. "Stella—" she began. Suddenly she saw them. "M-mother?' she stammered, almost too shocked to get the word out. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes moved around the room, taking in Thomas and the strange man on the couch. "And who have you brought with you?"

"This is Dr. Stephens," Ruth answered briskly. Taking control and ordering people about were two of her talents. "He's here to have a look at Jack."

Rose's head was spinning. "You said you were going to _call_ me. You never said—why would—did you actually come all this way _and _bring a doctor with you?" She didn't know if she felt grateful or confused—or both.

"Yes, well, someone had to do it. So stop wasting time and take Dr. Stevens to him. He was good enough to come all this way, after all."

"Okay." Rose sounded dazed. "This way." She led him from the room, Ruth following.

Stella and Thomas looked at each other. "Is she always like that?" Stella asked.

"Pretty much, yes."

"It's…intense."

"Intense sounds like a good word for it," he said, chuckling. "What are you reading?"

Jack was just drifting off, having finally managed to stop coughing—for the moment at least—when he was startled awake by the arrival of Rose, her mother, and the doctor. "What's going on?" he asked groggily, sitting up. _That isn't….is it? How high has my fever gotten?_

"Lie down Jack," Rose said soothingly. She gently pushed him back.

"What's going on?" he asked again.

"There's a doctor here to see you," she explained.

"Again? Wasn't he just here yesterday?"

"It's a different one. My mother brought him."

"Your mother…." _It's worse than I thought. It has to be._

"Sshhh….just let him look you over, okay?"

"Okay."

Rose hadn't intended to leave, but her mother motioned her into the hallway. Reluctantly, she went. "Why are you here?" she whispered once the door was closed behind her.

Ruth stared at her. "What do you mean why am I here? I came to help."

"Since when do you travel hundreds of miles to _help_? And to help _Jack_?"

"I'm not the terrible person you're implying I am. It isn't as though I hate him."

"You don't _like_ him."

"But I don't _hate_ him. And he's important to you."

Rose was stunned. "Are you trying to say you did this because you cared about how I feel?"

"If you must force me to say how I feel, the answer is yes. I did this because I care about you, and I know how much you care about him."

"This is the last thing I ever expected from you." Rose's tone was a mixture of shock and joy.

"Yes, well, I knew you were all alone out here," Ruth said stiffly. "And I am your mother. It is my duty to help you in situations like these."

Rose lightly touched her mother's arm. "You don't have to explain. Thank you."

"Rose, you know how physical displays of affection look."

Rose smiled. There was the mother she knew.

They stood in silence until the doctor came back out.

"Well?" Rose asked.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you that you weren't misinformed. He does have pneumonia, and it is a rather severe case, judging by the sound of his lungs. I don't suppose you've been able to get his fever to break at all?" he continued.

Rose shook her head. "No. I've tried everything I can think of, but I can only get it to come down for awhile. I can't get it to go away completely."

"In my opinion if his fever breaks he'll have a much better chance of making it. The fever's draining all his energy, and there's not enough left over to fight the disease. To be honest, I can't understand why a man his age and in his condition even ended up with this. It's usually brought on by an untreated cold, but based on what I've been told he wasn't exposed to anything that would have caused his original illness to mutate into this one—especially so rapidly."

"He was ill some time before this," Rose explained. "It's probably the result of that."

"Yes, he mentioned something about a prior illness. What was it?"

Rose stumbled over the word. "H—hypothermia. He had a very severe case of hypothermia." She could feel her mother's eyes on her. _You know he did,_ she wanted to say. _And you know why._

"Yes, well, that easily could have weakened his body if his case was extreme enough."

"Trust me, it was."

"I've given him something to help him sleep. He asked if he could have something for the coughing, but coughing is actually what he needs to be doing right now. There's no other way for him to get the fluid out of his lungs. It should also help with his fever."

"Thank you."

He looked at Ruth. "I'll just be downstairs then." She nodded. He walked past them and down the stairs.

Rose was staring at the wall. "Rose?" She didn't answer. Her mother tried again, a bit louder this time. "Rose?"

"Huh?"

"You can't just stand there all day."

_Why not?_ "I suppose so."

"I know you're worried, but there's nothing you can do right now. Come downstairs and let him rest."

Rose allowed herself to be led down the stairs, but her thoughts never left Jack.


	101. Chapter 101

As grateful as Rose was for her mother's gesture—the first of its kind, she couldn't help but note—after the initial shock wore off she started wondering when exactly her mother planned to leave. At first it had been nice having her around, but now her constant presence was putting even more strain on Rose's already frazzled nerves.

Ruth had wasted no time in taking control of the house—and all the people in it. Rose just didn't have it in her to protest—_Let her do what she wants. I don't care—_and Stella knew better than to say anything. Had she been the daughter she sometimes wished she was she doubted her words would have been heard. As the abandoned child of Rose's illegitimate half-sister she was certain of it. Ruth didn't say anything. She didn't have to. She had a gift for making silence speak for her. As she bustled around the house, criticizing and inspecting, Stella could hear everything she wasn't saying. _She doesn't want me to be here. She thinks I'm odd. Well, I don't care. It isn't up to her. She doesn't like Jack either. _

Rose couldn't understand how things had gotten to where they were. Thomas and the doctor were staying at a hotel in town—"The fewer people about the better," he'd said. "Jack needs quiet." As much as she agreed with him Rose was sure there was an ulterior motive to his departure, coming as it did five days into their stay and long after the doctor had already been sent off to the hotel. _He can't stand being cooped up with her either._

Once he was gone and there was no-one around to distract her, Ruth spent every spare second going over the house with the fine toothed combs that were her eyes and promptly finding fault with everything. "Rose, why you keep all these rooms empty and closed up like this?" she asked the first night. "Don't you realize what you could do with this space?"

"We're just not interested in doing anything with it right now," Rose had answered. "We weren't even planning to be here this long."

"What do you mean you weren't planning to be here this long?" Ruth couldn't believe her ears. "You don't purchase a house just to go off and leave it the very next day."

"We were going to stay for a little while. Get acquainted with the place. Spend some time just relaxing together. But we were planning to leave again."

"But why would you _leave_?" _He actually found a decent house. It's in the middle of nowhere, but it's still better than what I dared expect._

"Because we like wandering."

"Traveling I can understand, but what the two of you do is just utterly incomprehensible." _I don't know where you got this urge to go off and live like a vagabond from, but I'm blaming him. I don't care how well he's taken care of you. _"If you have this insatiable urge to see the world, why don't you do it _right?_ Why don't you travel as befits people with your means?"

"We _wander_," Rose said exasperated. "We don't have a plan. We look at a map, pick the first name that jumps out at us, and off we go. It doesn't matter where it is. Everyplace is interesting in some way. And as for traveling as befits our means, well, we're not interested in doing that at all. Yes, it's nice the money is there in case we ever do need it—like when we wanted to buy this house—but it's also nice that we're not _dependent_ upon it. We can live just fine without it." _Do you still not understand? I married him before he had _anything. _I don't need him to spend money on me._

"Do you really believe that?" _I wish your father had spent more time with you so I could blame him for this, but he didn't so I have no idea where it came from. _

"I _know_ it. Things weren't always like this. Jack may have become very successful very quickly—and I'm grateful for that because no-one deserves it more than he does—but before that happened we had nothing. At least not in the material sense," she added.

At that point Ruth had given up, much to Rose's relief. The silence didn't last long, however, and by the next afternoon she had found something else to be baffled and somewhat annoyed by. On the eighth day, it was Rose's appearance.

"I know you're under a lot of stress, but you do realize you've been wearing those same clothes for some time now, don't you?"

Rose looked down at herself. "I hadn't noticed." Actually, she had. She just didn't care. It wasn't just that the clothes she was wearing were Jack's. Despite how crazy it sounded, even in her own head, she was afraid to change. She'd been wearing those clothes the day she'd found out about his illness—_Found out he could die_—and though she couldn't explain it, there was a part of her that was convinced if she changed it would somehow curse him. She rationalized it to herself as a side effect of stress, but she still didn't change.

"Well, you have. Don't you think you should change into something clean?" _And that was made for a woman? Is there _nothing_ he won't let her do? _At that moment she heard what Jack's answer to that question would have been had he heard it. "I don't _let_ her do anything," he would have said, pleasant but firm. Ruth couldn't help but smile to herself. _Yes, that's exactly what he would sa_y. _Though I don't see why he doesn't do more to influence her. There's nothing wrong with _influencing_ what she does. _Although she would never have admitted it she was secretly afraid he really would end up dying. She knew she was making a nuisance of herself with the constant nitpicking, but she didn't know how else to express herself. Some people show love through kind words or gestures. Ruth showed it through criticism.

Rose didn't feel like arguing, and she knew better than to explain her belief about Jack dying if she changed clothes. So she agreed and went upstairs, leaving Ruth alone to search for something else to question. As she climbed the stairs she envied Stella, who had escaped using Ruth's discomfort around children as an excuse, to the peace and quiet of her room.

Jack was awake when she came in. He was sitting up, his knees drawn up almost to his chest. A book with a sheet of paper on top of it rested on his thighs. When Rose stepped through the door he tried to hide the evidence that he'd been doing anything other than sleeping, but he was too weak to move very fast.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping?" he said guiltily.

"Do you always sleep sitting up like this? With books and paper and charcoal pencils in bed with you? Because I've slept with you a few times, and I don't remember any of that," she said. Her tone was serious, but there was a smile in her eyes. _He's drawing—or trying to. That's good. That means he's getting better. _

"I need something to keep me from being lonely without you," he said with a grin. Rose's eyes grew heavy. "Oh sweet Rose, come here," he said, holding his hands out. She sat down on the edge of the bed and let him take her hands. "Hey, why do you look so sad?"

She looked at their clasped hands. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. But this won't last forever. It won't even last that much longer."

She lifted her head. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "You don't know that."

_Someone's said something to you haven't they?_ _They've scared you. _He knew there was a good chance he was wrong, but he was angry about it just the same. He gently took her face in his hands. "I _do_ know that. I promise you this will be over soon. And do you know what else I know?" She shook her head and managed a small smile. "Though I'm sure you're going to tell me."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I know that when this is all over we're going back out there."

"We are?" Her tone was hope-filled.

"We are. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Oh yes. If you do," she added.

"I'm not finished showing you the world just yet. And Stella needs some of those childhood experiences."

"We'll be like a family of gypsies," Rose laughed.

"That's exactly what we'll be—a family."_ I felt like I had a family even when it was just the two of us,_ he wanted to add. _But I like this too._

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

"Rose?'

"Hhmm..."

"I think my fever's gone."

Her eyes snapped open. "You do?"

"Yeah. Wanna check it?" She leapt off the bed and grabbed the thermometer. She popped it into his mouth. "You don't waste any time, do you?" he joked.

"Be quiet," she ordered. "If you talk it doesn't work right."

A few minutes later, her hands shaking, she read the results. His temperature was normal. She wasn't sure she could even remember the last time it had been normal"You're right," she said, almost too overjoyed to speak. "It's gone!"

_I don't even care. I just wanted to see that look in your eyes again. _"Rose?'

"Yes?"

"Will you…would you just lay here with me for awhile? I'm sure you're not supposed to, but I don't think I can take lying here by myself anymore."

"I can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

And so for the first time in what seemed like an eternity to both of them, Rose lay cradled in Jack's arms, her head resting above his heart.


	102. Chapter 102

AN: As always, reviews make the author's day.

"My mother's probably wandering why I'm not back yet," Rose sighed.

"Why?"

"She's the one who sent me up here-"

"And here I thought you came up here because you just couldn't stand spending another moment without me," Jack said melodramatically.

Rose smiled. He was starting to sound like Jack again. "Well, that too. She ordered me to come up here and change."

"She sure sent you to the wrong person then."

She laughed loudly, surprised by the sound of it. Suddenly her body felt lighter than it had in weeks. "Oh really?" she asked, playing along. "Are you sure about that?"

He squeezed her, hoping she didn't notice the new weakness in his arms. "As sure as I am that your hair's red."

"What a thing to say."

They settled into silence. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why she needed to change_-_he didn't see anything wrong with her clothes, though he did have a feeling he'd seen her in them a lot lately-when he remembered who the order had come from. He chuckled to himself. _Bet she can't wait till she can blame me for Rose's fall from respectableness in person._

"Rose?" When she didn't answer he tilted his head so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, and a smile played about her lips. He knew she was right-her mother probably was wondering why she wasn't back yet. He could just see her, sitting stiffly on the chair in the library, her mouth a tight line, resisting the urge to march upstairs and find out for herself just what Rose was up to. _Let her wait. Rose needs this sleep far more than she needs Rose. _

He was just about to doze off himself when the sound of the door creaking brought him out of it. Stella peered through the slightly open door. She appeared to be trying to retreat back into the hallway. "Hey," he whispered. "You don't have to go. What is it?"

She stepped just inside the door and gently closed it behind her. "I was just checking for Rose," she said softly. "Her mother's having a fit wanting to know why she hasn't come down yet."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Tell her she's sleeping and she'll be down when she wakes up, would you?"

Stella nodded. "Okay, but what if she doesn't listen?"

"You tell her to take it up with me then." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you be better soon?"

He was struck by how childlike she sounded, how unsure. Her personality and disposition tended to resemble that of a much older person, and it was easy to forget she was only nine. Easy to forget she was just a child. _A child who loves you,_ he thought, the realization hitting him for the first time. "Yeah, I will be," he assured her. "Don't worry about me."

She flashed him a quick grin. When she spoke again all trace of insecurity or fear was gone, and in its place was her usual dryness. "Good because Rose's mother is driving us both out of our minds."

"I don't doubt that. But you have to realize, that's the way she loves," he added. "It's kind of weird, but that's just how she is."

_How she loves you and Rose maybe, but not me. _She just nodded. "I understand. Do you need more paper?"

"Not yet. And thanks again for bringing me some."

"You're welcome," she said, slipping back into the hallway.

Over the next week Jack's condition continued to improve. His fever didn't return, and although the frequency of his coughing fits hadn't quite diminished the pain involved definitely had. He insisted it wasn't necessary, but Rose-and Ruth-refused to let him go without yet another examination by the doctor. Much to everyone's relief he was pronounced "Nearly well." He was advised to take it easy until his strength returned because too much exertion too fast would just bring the illness back. As much as he didn't want to-his dreams were now filled with visions of himself walking around-he agreed to stay in bed a little longer.

"A week or two," Rose had said.

"A few more days," he had countered.

"And have you end up right back the way you were? I don't think so Mr. Dawson."

He'd given up. There was no arguing with her when she got that tone in her voice. And as sick as he was of just sitting around being useless he couldn't ignore her concern for him or the truth of her words.

One morning Rose found herself staring into an empty cupboard. _Make that an empty kitchen. _Supplies had been dwindling for days, but now she had to face facts. They were out of food. She sighed and closed the cupboard. In all the stress of Jack's illness no-one had bothered to go grocery shopping.

"We ran out of food, didn't we?"

Rose jumped, startled by the sound of Stella's voice. "Yes, we did," she said, laughing quietly at her reaction. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You've been worried about Jack."

"I really have...but we still have to eat. I've never gone shopping for food without him before." She was suddenly overwhelmed by how dependent she was on him. _I never meant to be. He just takes over so many things. _"Hey, why don't we go?" she suggested brightly.

Stella chewed her lip, considering the proposal. "Without your mother?"

_Thanks for saying it for me. _"Someone has to stay with Jack, don't they?" _Sorry Jack, but we need this. _

And so an hour later they set off, Ruth eying their backs as they went. "They have no idea what they're doing," she said, watching as their hand-in-hand figures grew smaller and smaller. With a resigned sigh she turned and headed back into the house.

Not sure what to do with herself she went upstairs intending to spend the time alone quietly relaxing in her room, but just as she was reaching it her eyes were drawn to a door at the end of the hall. She'd never noticed it before. _I wonder what it leads to. Probably just another empty room. _But she walked over and opened it anyway, surprised when she saw a set of stairs lay behind it. "Now that I think about it, this house does have a third floor on the outside. There's probably nothing up there, but all the same..." Without giving herself much time to think about what she was going, she began to climb the stairs. Ruth had never been a very curious person-at least not that she would admit-but there was just something about whatever was at the top of those stairs that seemed to pull her forward.

When she reached the room at the top it took a moment for her to fully grasp what she was seeing. Light spilled through four large windows, illuminating the paintings that were leaned and stacked and hung on each wall. Charcoal sketches were tacked here and there and spread on a table that was also littered with pencils, brushes, and blank paper. She stepped forward and began to examine them more closely. Art had never meant anything to her. She had never understood why it captivated Rose so much, but there was something about these...she couldn't quite put her finger on it. There was just something...

She sucked in her breath as she recognized the subject of one of the paintings. _That's Rose. _She was standing on a beach, barefoot, her hair flying back in the breeze. There was a look of happiness on her face Ruth had never seen before. Her eyes moved to the next canvas. It was the "flying" painting Stella had commented once commented on, now finished. _That's-that's them. They look so..._

"I hope that's a stunned because what you see is so amazing kind of silence and not a stunned because you can't believe how awful it is kind of silence." Ruth whirled around to see Jack leaning in the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest. He wore slight grin."Though if it's the second one, feel free not to tell me," he added.

Her first instinct was to chastise him for sneaking up on her, but she pushed it aside. She was in his house, and in what was obviously his personal space. If anyone didn't have the right to be there it was her. "It isn't the second one," she said, keeping her admiration out of her voice. "I was actually rather surprised to see how talented you are."

Jack chuckled. "That's why they pay me so well." _Did you think there was another reason?_ _Oh don't go there. She's trying to be nice. _

"I've never really seen your work before," she admitted. She had chosen to forget the drawing of Rose.

"You can look all you want," he said pleasantly. He crossed over to the table and began to select a charcoal pencil from the pile. "I don't mind." He saw her eyes were fixed on the flying painting. "I love that one," he added. "It's for Rose."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I've got a few other things I've been working on for her. She just doesn't know about them yet." He smiled picturing the look on Rose's face when he gave them to her.

"Are they all like this?"

"Huh? Oh, the ones for her? You could say that. They're all of us, of moments in our life together."

"And the two of you really did this?" she asked, slightly awestruck.

"Sure did. Last time _Titanic_ ever saw daylight." His eyes clouded slightly as the memory of that night washed over him. "That was the moment when I knew we'd be together forever," he added quietly.

"Is that when you knew you loved her?" Ruth was surprised to hear herself ask the question. She didn't know why she was suddenly so curious about their relationship. Perhaps it had something to do with seeing how Jack's feelings had been transferred into a literal thing of beauty.

"No. I knew I loved her the night before when I walked her back from the party. We were singing and just..drunk on our on happiness. We stopped to wish on a shooting star..." he trailed off, lost in his memories.

Ruth's voice brought him back to the present. "What did you wish for?"

"Something I never thought I could have."

"You've taken good care of her Jack," she said with a quiet sigh. "Better than I ever expected."

"Told you I would."

"Yes, well, there's no need to gloat about it."

_Why not? _"You're right," he said, pushing his immature side away. "And it doesn't matter what you thought before. All that matters is what you think now."

"I think you two belong together," she said, stumbling over the words.

"So do I."

Certain she'd shown quite enough emotion for one day, Ruth nodded and turned to leave. "Jack?" she called over her shoulder as she started down the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I can keep a secret if you can."

"You want me to lie to Rose? The woman you love?"

"Not lie," he said, echoing what she had once said to him. "Just don't bring it up if you don't have to, you know?"

Ruth smiled in spite of herself. "Why does that sound familiar?"


	103. Chapter 103

AN: Again, thanks for all the reviews! Sorry it took awhile to update this one. This is a short chapter, but trust me the next one will make up for it.

Rose couldn't remember when she had felt more self-conscious in her entire life. It seemed like there were a million people on the street, and they were all staring right at her. It had been four months since she and Jack moved into their house, and not once during all that time had she ever appeared in public without him by her side. It wasn't that she didn't think she could handle going out by herself. It was just that they always seemed to do everything together. She had looked forward to tackling the shopping by herself for the first time until the staring began. _What can they possibly be looking at?_

Her thoughts were written all over her face. "They might be looking at me," Stella offered in a voice that said "They _are _looking at me".

"Why would they be looking at you? There's nothing unusual about you," Rose said, suddenly defensive. _Or me either. __At least not on the outside. _

"I don't look unusual, true. But they know I wasn't around when you and Jack first arrived. And they're probably wondering where I came from."

Stella's position as their adopted child had never been an issue before-at least not to them-but as Rose listened to her explanation for the stares she realized just how big of an issue it could become. As dedicated as she was to the truth Rose wondered if they could ever explain how she came into their lives. She didn't think twice about telling the story of how she and Jack met, but this was different.

_It is?_

_Of course it is. We're adults. We know what people might say about us, but it's our choice to tell them. We can handle it if people react badly. She's a child. The situation isn't at all the same. _

It was identifying the difference in their situations that gave Rose back the confidence she had lost. Who were they to judge them? "Perhaps," she said briskly. She lifted her chin and quickened their pace. "But we don't have time to waste trying to figure it out." During the remainder of the trip Rose stared down each pair of eyes that lingered on them too long. _My mother would be proud_, she thought as they began the walk back to the house. _Possibly for the first time. _


	104. Chapter 104

AN: There is some slightly M content in this one. If you don't like it, as always, you have been warned. The point of having moments like this is to make their relationship a bit more well-rounded and, I hope, true to the way they interact with each other in the movie.

Jack was just putting the finishing touches on a painting he'd started working on a few days before his illness began when he heard the sound of Rose and Stella's return. He threw the brush onto his supplies table and flew down the attic stairs. He dove into bed and buried his face in the pillow just seconds before Rose came in. "Hi," he said quietly, trying to sound as if he had been sleeping.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, I feel fine," he assured her.

She smiled. "That's what I like to hear. What did you do while I was gone?"

"Just slept."

"That all?"

Her tone was pleasant yet he sensed something lay behind the seemingly innocuous question. "Yeah," he said slowly.

"You wouldn't lie to me would you?"

_What is she talking about? _"You know the answer to that." _And it's true I wouldn't. Except for now. But I wouldn't lie about something important. _

Rose leaned forward so that her face was just inches from his. A smile played about her lips. "There's paint on your hands Jack."

_Oh shit. _He looked down at his hands. "How did that get there?"

Rose pressed her forehead to his. "You just had to, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," he admitted sheepishly. "I know you don't want me to be doing much of anything right now and I understand why, but I just couldn't take it anymore. I can finally breathe painlessly again, and I've been doing nothing for _so long_." He sighed. "I don't want to get sick again, but I miss my work so much."

"I haven't been very fair to you, have I?"

"It isn't like that at all. You've just been trying to do what's best for me." He took her hands in his. "Rose, if you hadn't been by my side this whole time I wouldn't have made it through this."

"You would have," she said confidently. "You're a survivor."

"Maybe so, but without you I wouldn't have had anything to live for."

"That's not true," she insisted. _You're Jack. You don't give up. Ever. _"You would have had your next great adventure to live for."

"And before you that would have been enough, but not now." His blue eyes grew serious. "Rose, you changed my life when you came into it in ways you can't even imagine. After my parents died I had no-one, and eventually, as much as I missed them, I grew to like it that way because it meant I could do anything I wanted without having to worry about how my decisons affected someone else. But then I met you and I realized there's a big difference between being free and just being alone."

Rose's words caught in her throat. "That was beautiful Jack." It had never occurred to her that perhaps she had saved him just as much as he had saved her.

"_You're_ beautiful." He tilted his head up and kissed her. When she started to pull away he lightly laid a hand against her curls. "Don't," he whispered. "Please."

"Jack we can't-"

"Sshh..." He kissed her again, more urgently this time. She gave in and collapsed against him, laying a hand on the back of his neck. But when he moved to pull her the rest of the way on the bed she stopped him. "We really can't." _No matter how much I want to. _

"Why not?"

"You're not supposed to be doing anything to stress your body," she gasped as his lips grazed her neck. "Stressful is not the word I'd use to describe this," he whispered, his breath lightly blowing against her ear. She shuddered. _No. No. Don't let him distract you._ She tried to protest a second later when he pulled her onto him, but all that came out was his name. _You shouldn't let him do this,_ her mind insisted. But she ignored it. It just felt so good to have his body against hers again. He felt so wonderfully alive.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and pulled himself into a sitting position. She moved with him, pressing her bent knees against his sides as she straddled his lap. Her curls fell like a curtain around their faces. His hands slid to the small of her back. "I need you closer." _So much closer. _

_I need it to,_ Rose thought, attacking the buttons on his shirt. "I've missed you," she whispered into his jaw. He groaned and pressed her more tightly against him. _You don't know how much I've missed you,_ she added silently.


	105. Chapter 105

"Jack?"

"Hhmm..."

"Are you awake?"

"Uh-huh."

"Because I woke you up?"

He kissed her. "It doesn't matter why I'm awake. What's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong."

"You didn't have to." He rolled off of her and onto his side. "Talk to me Rose."

She sighed. "This is going to sound utterly superficial and-"

"I'm sure it won't, but go ahead."

"Jack, what are we going to do about Stella?" _That came out completely wrong. _

"What do you mean? Don't you want-"

"Oh, yes, I want to keep her! I didn't mean for it to sound that way. It's just, well, I realized today that we never discussed how we're going to handle explaining her to people."

He thought for a moment before answering. "We'll just tell them the truth."

"Which is?"

"That she's your niece, and we adopted her. That _is_ the truth. No-one needs to know anything else."

_How does he do that?_ "It all seems so much simpler when you say it." She smiled. "There's another one of your gifts."

He chuckled. "Simplification?"

"No. Putting things into perspective. You can always make me see things clearly."

He was filled with a sudden rush of love for her. "You make me see myself more clearly." She brushed a finger across his lips. "Good." They drank in each other with their eyes.

"Rose?"

"Jack?"

They didn't need to say anything else.

Later, as Rose slept peacefully in his arms. Jack's mind was drawn back to their conversation. It hadn't occurred to him they would need to explain Stella's existence to anyone until Rose brought it up. _But that's just because we're so cut off from the world,_ he reminded himself. _It's easy to forget that there are other people out there. People who won't understand why we want to keep her in our lives, why we didn't just find someone else to take her. _He knew Ruth didn't understand. She hadn't said anything since the first time she'd tried to talk them out of it, but he could tell she wasn't happy about their decision. He rationalized it to himself by saying it was because of whose daughter Stella was. He didn't want to think she would refuse to accept _any_ child they adopted. _That's just because you want to adopt another one._ And he did, eventually. He hadn't told Rose yet. Too much had been happening, and he didn't want to add to her stress.

But eventually, when things calmed down...just maybe...


	106. Chapter 106

AN: I know it's actually June right now, but it's winter in the story so behold! We have a Christmas chapter. In the middle of June. And there's some sex too.

Ruth left the next day. It was obvious they didn't need her anymore, and being completely cut off from the world was starting to drive her as crazy as her constant nit-picking was Rose. So after an awkward but sincere good-bye, Jack and Rose got their house back. Though Rose was still doing everything she could to limit just how much Jack could do in it.

The three of them settled back into their usual routines, and time flew by as it always seems to when filled with simple happiness. Jack completed another show's worth of paintings and drawings. For awhile he would go into town and just sit and sketch the scenes unfolding in front of him, but Rose put a stop to his outings the morning she woke up and the thermostat outside read 39 degrees. "That is seven degrees away from freezing. It's too cold for you to be sitting outside all day," she'd said. Jack thought it best not to remind her there had been a time when he had slept outside in colder weather. She was trying her best to take care of him. After that his focus became Rose and Stella.

Rose divided her time between doing her best to educate Stella—whose attachment to them, like her insatiable desire to know at least a little bit about everything, increased daily—and finishing the novel she'd laid aside when Jack had gotten sick. She was surprised to discover her favorite part of the day quickly became the few hours in the morning when she shut herself in a room by herself and just let the story unfold on the paper in front of her. Watching Jack create his art had always fascinated her, and each time she saw him working she wondered what it felt like to transform a blank piece of paper into something as extraordinary as one of his drawings.

The morning she finally wrote the last sentence of her book, she leaned back, set down her pen and realized she knew exactly what it felt like.

_Christmas 1913_

That morning Jack slept in—or to put it more accurately, he lay in bed and waited for Rose to wake up. As he watched her sleep he was struck once again by just how lucky he was. _I have everything I could ever want._ No sooner had the thought entered his mind then Rose opened her eyes. "Hey," she whispered. "Am I awake early or are you in bed late?"

"The second one."

"Why?" Concern filled her eyes. "Are you not feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "It just occurred to me that it's been an awfully long time since you and I woke up together is all."

She smiled. "I should have gotten you a better gift."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb in that way only he could. "You married me didn't you? That's the only gift I'll ever need." Rose's heart fluttered. _And to think I almost married…_But she didn't finish the thought. Gazing into Jack's deep blue eyes she found there was no need to remind herself of how her life could have gone. It didn't matter. Nothing but Jack and the life they had created—were still creating—together mattered.

"Whatcha thinkin about?" he asked, noticing the faraway expression in her eyes. She kissed him. "You." "What about me?" he asked suggestively. She giggled. "Not that." He sighed heavily. "I should have known better. You just don't find me attractive anymore-oohmph!" He grinned up at Rose, who was now straddling him. "Couldn't have given me a bit more warning?" She leaned forward and shook her head, letting her curls tickle his face. "Your hair smells nice," he whispered. Her mouth was just inches from his. "Thank you," she said curtly.

_Oh that's how she wants to play this._

Her lips were just about to meet his when he said, "Miss, I'm not sure if this is the sort of thing you should be doing." She arched an eyebrow imperiously. "Is that so?" He nodded. "I'm afraid so." "Hmm..." She shifted her weight, pressing herself against his growing erection. He clenched his teeth to hold in the groan that threatened to escape. "Something wrong?" she asked innocently. "Oh no, Miss," he assured her. She moved to kiss him again, but stopped just before her lips touched his. "Still think I shouldn't be doing this?" He answered by raising his head slightly and claiming her mouth.

"Where are you going?"

Jack chuckled quietly as he slipped into his pants. He could tell from her tone she didn't want him to leave, and he didn't blame her. The room was freezing. He'd been careless and let the fire go out during the night-which hadn't seemed like such a big deal when he was buried under a mountain of blankets and happily intertwined with Rose. If he'd had his way neither of them would have left the bed-ever. _Well you have to, so stop whining to yourself about it and work on thawing the house. _As he slipped into a shirt Rose moved to climb out of bed herself. "No," he said quickly. "It's freezing. Stay until I get the place warmed up again."

"You can handle the cold and I can't?" she teased.

"You're _not_ handling the cold if I can help it."

And that was that.

Jack wasted no time rebuiling the fire in their room. Rose watched, fascinated by the movement of his hands. _Is there nothing his hands can't do? _He grinned as the flames began to crackle healthily. "Stay in bed until it's warm," he admonished. Rose nodded. "Yes, Mr. Dawson," she said with mock seriousness, her chin jutting out. "I mean it!" he insisted, slipping into the hallway.

Jack shivered. It wasn't Wisconsin cold, but it wasn't pleasant either. _It's your own fault._ "I know, I know," he murmured to himself. Rubbing his hands together, he hurried down the hall. He knocked softly on Stella's door. Silence. He opened the door a crack and peered inside. She was still asleep, buried under a mountain of blankets, oblivious to the frigid air around her. He crept inside and rebuilt her fire as quietly as he could. Downstairs he only bothered warming up the library and kitchen-the only two rooms he was sure they would use that day.

Rose was dozing off, lulled into sleepiness by the warmth that had slowly enveloped the room. "You gonna just sleep all day?" Jack teased, kissing her forehead. She smiled without opening her eyes. "I didn't know if it was safe to get up yet." "It's safe. There's even breakfast downstairs." "Mmm..you're too wonderful for words."

A still-yawning Stella appeared just as they were sitting down to eat. "How late is it?" she asked taking a seat at the table.

"Half past noon," Jack answered.

"Later than I thought," she said, amazed.

"And _he_ only got up a few minutes ago," Rose said, pointing a thumb at Jack. Stella stared at him. "I didn't even know you _could_ sleep past sunrise." Jack threw his hands up in surrender. "It's just not something I do often. But I can, I assure you." Rose giggled. "I'll get you to again." "I'm sure you will," he said smoothly. _Though I doubt much sleeping will happen, _he added silently.

"Here's yours," Rose said, handing Stella a package. They were sitting on the floor of the library. Jack leaned against the couch, an arm draped across Rose's shoulders. Stella sat across from them. She took the package gingerly. She stared at it in wonder, almost afraid to open it. But then she tore into it.

"Oohh.." she gasped as she lifted out a possibly never opened, carefully preserved early edition of the _Complete Works of William Blake._ Her eyes shone as she gently fingered the gold text on the cover. "Thank you."

Jack squeezed Rose's shoulder. They exchanged smiles. "And since we're on the subject," Rose said, reaching behind her. She handed Jack two small packages. "Two?" he asked. "I get two?" She waved aside his wonder. "Only one of them is any good." "I'll be the judge of that." He unwrapped the first package. "Oh, Rose..." She watched his face anxiously. "Is that a bad-" "It's a good." Inside it were a rainbow of oil paints and pastel crayons. "I knew you hadn't used those," she began to explain. His face glowed. "I will now." He carefully laid aside his new treasures and opened the second package. "I get another one of your notebooks?" he asked, pleased by her willingness to share with him.

"Well...it's not just a notebook...I wrote an entire book. In there," Rose said nervously. Jack and Stella stared at her in amazement. "I knew you could do it," Jack said, a smile spreading across his face. "And that makes your gift even better."

"It does?"

"Uh-huh. Go see it. It's in your room."

She raised an eyebrow. "I have to go to it?"

"It's not that easy to carry up and down those stairs."

Without another word Rose leapt to her feet and ran from the room with the excitement of a child. Jack watched her go. "Hope she likes it."

"You aren't going with her?" Stella asked.

He shook his head. "I'd rather-" A joyful squeal followed by the sound of feet running down steps interruped him. "Hear that," he finished.

Rose burst into the room. "You-it's-"

"So, you like it then?'

"I love it!"

"I thought being able to type if you wanted would make things easier."

She fell to her knees and hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered into his hair.

"Good day?" Jack asked as he slid into bed beside Rose. She nodded and moved into his arms. "Very good day." He kissed her hair. "That's what I was going for."


	107. Chapter 107

_January 1914_

"You knew this day would come," Jack said. He laid his hands on her shoulders. "It's only for a few hours."

"I know," Rose said. "I just didn't think it would be this hard. I know it's silly, but in we've never really been apart. And I know it hasn't been that long, but..."

"It'll be fine. You'll both be fine. All kids go to school."

Rose sighed. "I always tried not to."

"Oh really? A well-brought up girl like you?" he teased.

"Yes, a well-brought up girl like me. I hated the way all the teachers didn't expect anything from me. If I sat quietly and looked pretty and didn't ask questions everything was fine, but if I did anything to show I might actually have a mind they couldn't run gasping to my mother fast enough. It was so frustrating."

"Well, that probably won't happen to her, and if it does she'll have you."

"I suppose you're right. The house just feels empty without her."

"I'm here," he reminded her. "Remember me? Your stupefyingly handsome husband?" Rose burst out laughing. "If that's what you want to call it." "Hey," he said, slipping an arm around her waist. "That wasn't very nice." She kissed him lightly. "I'm sorry. You really are stupefyingly handsome."

"I am?"

She rolled her eyes and slipped out of his grasp. "As if you don't know."

Rose settled in front of the desk in the upstairs room she had taken over. She stared at the typewriter. Nothing. She leaned back and cracked her knuckles. "Hmm..." She lurched forward suddenly, her fingers landing just above the keys. "Maybe..." She shook her head. "This is going to be a long afternoon."

"Jack?"

He looked up from the crate he was packing. "What's wrong my love?" he asked, seeing the serious expression on Rose's face. "Same thing?"

"No." She traced circles in the worn floorboards with her toes. "I just felt like talking to someone. If you're not too busy."

"I'll never be too busy for you. C'mere."

She stood beside him and watched as he carefully wrapped a painting in thick brown paper and set it in the crate. "How many of those are you sending?"

"Well, they asked for 12," he said, wrapping another.

Her face lit up. "Jack, that's wonderful."

"Yeah. It's not bad for the guy who was once laughed out of the Paris art world."

"That doesn't matter." She laid a hand on his arm. "All the people who didn't take you seriously back then probably can't believe how blind they were."

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it."

"I wasn't going to bring this up yet, but how would you feel about going to Paris?"

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

"It's been suggested to me recently that a 'European debut' would be good for my career," he explained. "And I wanted to take you there eventually anyway. Why not now?"

"Can we? Do we really have the money for something like that?"

He took her hands in his. "What'd I tell you about worrying about money?"

"Not to?"

"Exactly." He kissed her forehead. "Don't think about that. Just tell me if you'd like it."

"I-I'd love it."

"That's all I needed to know."

They were both aware of the tensions in Europe, but neither of them ever anticipated the eruption that would happen that summer. Or that they might find themselves right in the middle of it.


	108. Chapter 108

_February 1914_

Rose was sorting through the mail one morning when she came across a letter from Scribner and Strauss Publishing. It was addressed to her. "Why would they be writing to me?" she wondered, tearing it open. She quickly scanned the letter. "While we enjoyed your manuscript we regret...How can they reject something I never even sent them?"

She was still puzzling over the matter when Jack came in a few minutes later. "Whatcha got?" he asked, sitting down beside her. She handed him the letter. "I never even sent anything, and it still got rejected. I don't even know how they got my name."

"Well, I sort of sent it for you," Jack said slowly.

"You sent it? Why would you something like that without telling me?"

"Please don't be mad. I didn't think you had the confidence to do it yourself, and—"

"I might have," she said, lifting her chin and turning her eyes away from his. "You didn't ask."

"I'm sorry." He touched her hand. "I just wanted-I had this idea that I could send it in and it'd get accepted and it would be this huge, amazing surprise for you. I guess I got so caught up in the idea I didn't stop to think that maybe you'd be upset because I didn't ask."

She sighed and turned to face him. "Well...just ask next time you feel the urge to surprise me with something, okay?"

"I can do that."

She pointed to the letter. "Though can you see now why I might not have wanted to send it?"

"This? It's just one rejection. It's the _first_ rejection, might I add. Think about how many years I worked at being an artist before anyone started taking me seriously. But it doesn't matter if you get rejected as long as you try."

"You're right. I'm just afraid that I'm really not any good."

"I'm not letting you do that," he said firmly. "I believe in you too much to let you do that."

"Why?"

"Because I see you."

"That can't be your answer for everything."

"Why not? It's true."

"Because..." She was at a loss for words.

"Yes?" he wheedled.

She tried to glare at him but failed. "Fine. You win, O Seer of All."

"If I recall correctly it was you who said-"

She cut him off with a kiss. "I declared you the winner. Let it go."

"Consider it let go of."

_May 1914_

Rose gazed up at the ship. It was larger than she had pictured. Dread filled her heart. _We shouldn't do this. _Sensing her fear, Jack squeezed her hand. "You okay?" She nodded, not trusting what she might say if she spoke. It had all seemed so simple each time they discussed it, but now that it was actually happening she couldn't help but wonder what they had been thinking. _We can't get on another ship. Ships and us do not mix well. _

"Rose." She met his eyes. "It's gonna be fine," he said reassuringly. "We looked into everything. No more ice is expected this year. There are more than enough boats." She nodded and tightened her grip on his hand.

Stella watched the exchange, not sure what to make of it. It was obvious Rose was scared, and though he wasn't showing it, she was sure Jack was too. Before she had a chance to ponder the matter any further the call came from them to board the ship. In the excitement that followed she quickly forgot the whole thing.

Jack tensed slightly as they stepped on board. It was the only indication he gave that he might be feeling anything other than perfectly calm. _It's fine,_ he told himself. _Do you know what the chances of that happening a second time are?_

They'd decided to go in May because it would allow them to both arrive at the right time to spend the summer and reduce the possibility of encountering ice. There'd been no question about whether or not they would take Stella. Not only was there no-one to leave her with-Rose's mother being dismissed as an option without even being brought up-but Rose couldn't have brought herself to leave her anyway. Her parents had often gone off for months at a time, leaving her in the care of nannies and hired help when she was a child, and she didn't want to pass that experience on.

What they did have trouble deciding was _how_ they would travel. Rose had insisted on third class. Jack had refused, pointing out that if a disaster did somehow occur, that would be the most dangerous place to be, and first would be the safest. The debate went on for days before they finally settled on a compromise. They were both pushing for extremes, neither of which quite fit with who they were or how they lived, so they ended up in second class. Which, upon further reflection, they realized was exactly where they belonged. It was in the middle, just like they were. Neither poor nor fabulously wealthy-at least, not outwardly so. Jack remained closemouthed about the state of their finances. Rose didn't press the issue. She could tell his silence was due more to discomfort than to there being anything to fear.

They had three rooms: a room for the two of them, a room for Stella, and a small room in between. Each bedroom had its own small, private bathroom and could only be accessed through the sitting room. A short hallway leading to the left led to Jack and Rose's room, and a short hallway to the right led to Stella's. The furniture and decor could only be described as "modestly luxurious" though it all seemed far too lavish for Rose, who couldn't manage to soothe her fears or stop the flood of memories. Jack, on the other hand, was relatively happy. He felt slightly anxious, but he refused to let his anxiety about what _could _happen morph into the fear that something _would _happen. Stella just walked back and forth through each room, awestruck.

"Well, the hard part's over," Jack said, putting an arm around Rose. They had been at sea for an hour, and she had barely said two words. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you really think so?"

"I'm sure of it. Everything's gonna be fine. You'll see."

Rose closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Slowly her body relaxed. She breathed deeply. _Maybe he's right_. _Maybe I'm just overreacting. _


	109. Chapter 109

"See, there's nothing to be afraid of," Jack said, swinging their clasped hands forward as they strolled along the deck. Stella walked a few feet ahead of them, silently taking in everything. The deck was crowded with second and third class passengers, who it seemed, weren't completely opposed to mingling—though it could have just been ,the excitement of their first few hours at sea weakening the class lines.

"You think I'm silly, don't you?"

"No. That's not what I think. I was a little nervous when we first came onboard," he said. _You still are. Shut up!_

"You were?" Her voice lifted in surprise.

"I do get scared, you know." He chuckled.

"I know that. It's just you always hide it so well. You always seem to be so in control."

"I really seem that way?"

"You do. No matter what's happening I always feel safe with you. You just have this way of—of

making me believe everything will turn out okay." He stopped and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You'll always be safe with me." As she gazed into his sparkling blue eyes her fear began to melt away. "_You'll_ always be safe with_ me_," she said, kissing him softly. He smiled. He was always amazed by Rose's willingness to protect him—no matter what it took. The other passengers around them, intrigued by their behavior, had begun to form a small audience.

"I think we're being watched," he said quietly.

"It certainly seems that way."

"Well, if it's a show they're after…" And without warning he spun her around quickly and pressed her body to his. Rose screamed happily and threw her arms around him. They kissed passionately, heedless of the scandalized and jealous stares they were receiving. Stella watched them, a small smile on her face.

After they explored a little more they had a quick lunch, and then they went back outside. Jack sketched while Rose wrote a letter to her mother. Stella played with a group of children she'd met at lunch.

"Do you want to add anything?" Rose asked, offering him the pen.

"Sure." He took the pen and leaned over her. He quickly wrote, _Still taking care of her. Only now I'll have to do it in Europe for awhile. _ Rose's expression was one of bemusement as she read his words. "She'll get it," he said. "We have our own way of communicating." Rose closed her eyes and shook her head, a smile slipping out. "If you say so."

At dinner they found themselves at a table with another young couple, an older unmarried woman, a middle aged couple, a young single woman, and a young single man. When they sat down the unmarried woman was doing her best to get the two single people together. "Come now, don't be silly." she said, motioning to the young man. "You take my chair, and I'll take yours." Her chair was next to the young woman. She was pretty with rich, chestnut hair and delicate features. She looked about Rose's age. Though visibly uncomfortable, the young man did as he was told. He had wavy golden hair and a strong jawline. The two strangers smiled and avoided eye contact.

Jack and Rose exchanged amused glances as they settled into their chairs. They were seated opposite the young couple. The unmarried woman was on Jack's left. The middle aged couple was on Rose's right. The two uncomfortable single people were at the far end of the table.

"Hello," the woman opposite them said pleasantly. She had short blonde hair and gray eyes. "I'm Alice, and this is my husband Bernard." He nodded and smiled.

"I'm Rose, and this is my husband Jack." "Hi," he said, giving a small wave and a smile.

It didn't take long for the rest of the group to introduce themselves. The single woman was named Celia, the single man was named Albert, the older woman was named Mary, and the other couple were named Edith and Derek.

"So, why are you going to England?" Alice asked. "We're on our wedding tour," she added.

"That's sort of what we're doing," Jack said. Rose gave him a puzzled look but remained quiet. "We've done a lot of traveling since getting married, but it was really more a way of living for us at the time. And we've both been to Europe, but not together and there was some talk of a trip helping with my career so here we are."

"What sort of work do you do?" Derek asked.

"I'm an artist."

"Uh-huh." he said, in a tone that made clear just what he thought of _that._

"What kind of art?" Celia asked.

"I do drawings, and I paint—people mostly. I like to use what's around me as my subject."

"Unless it's a landscape," Rose said. "He doesn't do landscapes."

Jack suppressed the urge to smile. "No," he said, looking at her. "I do not. But enough about me, seriously."

As the conversation progressed they learned that Alice and Bernard had only been married a few weeks. They were both from Chicago and had known each other all their lives. Bernard was in advertising. They learned that Edith and Derek had been married for 25 years, had four children, and were from upstate New York. Celia was traveling to England to be with her aunt and uncle. Mary was taking the European tour she'd never gotten to take in her youth. And Albert was planning to wander around Europe and search for inspiration for his novel. Both Mary and Derek looked dubious when he mentioned that he was a writer.

"I wandered around Europe for two years," Jack said.

"Did you really?" Albert asked eagerly. "What was it like?"

"Well, I don't know if it'll be the same for you as it was for me, but—" And they all leaned in as he recounted his adventures. Rose had heard the stories before, but she loved to hear Jack talk about his travels. As the rest of the table listened, enraptured, her heart swelled with pride. _He really is amazing. _


	110. Chapter 110

Rose was brushing her hair, glad the long day was finally over, when Jack snuck up behind her. She laughed loudly as he overpowered her with tickles. "Stop! Please!" she begged breathlessly. He stopped. Looking perfectly serious and as though he had no idea what he'd just done he said, "Are you okay?" She playfully jabbed her brush at him. "Oh, so that's how you want to play this?" He held his hands up. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about." "Fine." She laid her brush down and swept past him and into the bathroom. He had just finished removing his shoes when she came back out a few minutes later.

She didn't speak, and his back was to her so he didn't notice anything at first. He slipped off his shirt and was turning around to put it away when he saw her. She was lying on the bed, legs crossed, reading a book. Naked. His eyes widened. _Touche. _Rose peered over her book. "Something wrong?" she asked innocently. He shook his head. "I don't know if I'd call it wrong exactly." She smiled radiantly. "Good."

Jack did his best to ignore her as he finished getting ready for bed, but it wasn't easy to do. He knew every inch of her body almost better than he knew the back of his hand, but that didn't diminish its effect on him at all. Seeing her still made him go weak in the knees.

When he came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth she was under the covers, feigning sleep. He turned out the light and climbed into bed next to her. Slipping an arm around her he whispered into her curls, "That wasn't very nice."

He couldn't see her smile, but he knew it was there. "What did I do? Do you mean-But surely that can't be it. You've seen me more times than you probably care to think about. You must be absolutely bored-" Her words changed to a quiet yelp of surprise as Jack rolled her onto her back. She looked up at him and almost blushed when she saw the intensity in his blue eyes. "Do I seem bored to you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I must not look at you like this enough anymore," he whispered as he bent down and claimed her mouth.

When Rose woke up the next morning she wasn't sure where she was. She sat up and looked around, confused by her strange surroundings. "You okay?" Jack asked. Hearing his voice brought it all back. "I forget where we were for a moment," she said sheepishly. She settled back into his arms. "I'm going to accuse you of losing interest in me more often, just so you know."

"That so?"

"If it always gets me that kind of a response I am."

He chuckled. Growing serious he said, "You don't really think that, do you?"

"Think what? That you're bored with me?"

"Yeah."

"No. But I wouldn't be surprised if you were. We have been married for two years now."

"So?"

"Well, that's two years you've spent with me and me alone. After the kind of life you had before-"

"There were no other women before you. You know that, right? And even if there had been they couldn't possibly compare to you."

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean it. What'd I do to make you feel that way?" His guilt was obvious in his voice.

"Nothing," she assured him. "It's just that as wonderful as you are, you're still a man, and men get bored with their wives eventually."

"Where did you-Who told you that?" he asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. She avoided his eyes. "It was your mother, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't just her." She didn't know how to explain to him that in the world she came from it was understood that even the most devoted husbands had affairs. They weren't blamed for them as long as they remained discreet. It was also understood that men had "needs" that women didn't, though she had stopped believing that part long ago.

"Then why were you so quick to trust me when Cynthia-"

"I didn't mean I thought you'd actually be unfaithful to me. I just meant that it would be understandable if maybe you thought about it sometimes..." Her voice trailed off. She felt ashamed of herself for even thinking the words let alone saying them out loud. _How could you be so stupid? How could you doubt what you have together, even for a second? After everything he's been through with you?_

"Rose, look at me." She slowly turned her head. "I would never-I could never-" He fumbled for the right words. "I love you. There aren't words for how much. I haven't even thought about looking at another woman since the first time I saw you. No-one else could ever make me feel the way you do. Maybe it isn't the way you were taught things are, but it's the way things are for me."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have-I was stupid to think-"

"It doesn't matter." He brushed back a few stray curls. "Just don't ever feel that way again."

"Do you ever have doubts about the way I feel?" she asked.

"Not ever. Why? Should I?"

"No!" she said quickly, her voice rising slightly. "No," she repeated in a normal tone. "You're the only man I'll ever want. The only man I'll ever love."

He smiled. "You sure know how to start the day off on a light note, anyone ever tell you that?"

"As a matter of fact a very handsome man just told me."

"Oh really? Better looking than me?"

"I wouldn't go that far..."


	111. Chapter 111

The implications of their discussion hung over Jack's head like a dark cloud for the rest of the day. He'd known that no matter how much they shared, they would each always have secret parts of themselves the other might never see. It was just a fact of life. Some things you have to keep to yourself, and it isn't about not loving or trusting the other person. But he'd never imagined Rose could be thinking something like that. _Have we changed? Have I changed and just not noticed? _He didn't think so. As far as he knew their relationship was as strong and as passionate as ever. They talked about everything. They could also sit in silence for hours together. Rather than diminish with time their love making had actually increased in frequency and intensity.

Jack spent the day alone. He wandered the ship, hoping the constant movement would somehow silence his mind. It didn't, but he kept walking anyway. _Is it too much?_ he wondered._ Can there be too much?_ It just didn't make sense. How long had she been thinking like that? How could she even let herself think like that? And then a more frightening question presented itself. _Is she not happy? Is that it?_

He didn't notice how much time had passed until he emerged onto one of the upper decks and realized the sun was setting. _Rose'll be worried about me_, he thought with a pang of guilt. And his day long disappearance might just confirm the suspicions he had become convinced she had.

Rose was lying on the couch when he came in. An open book lay on her stomach, but she seemed to have forgotten it was there. Her eyes were distant. Her mouth was a tense line. She sat up, startled, when he came in. "Hello," she said hesitantly. His sudden, pro-longed disappearance after breakfast had left her shaken and scared. Part of her was sure something had happened to him, and another part of her was sure she had driven him away with her comments that morning. Her happiness at seeing him safe and sound was curbed by the look in his eyes.

"Are we alone?" he asked. She nodded. Stella was visiting the new friends she'd made the day before and wouldn't be back for hours. He walked over to her and dropped to his knees. His hands rested on her lap. Rose didn't know what to make of his strange behavior, but it frightened her more than his disappearance had. "Jack-"

He held up a hand, silencing her. "I'm sorry about just taking off like that. I shouldn't have made you worry. I just needed to be alone for awhile. I needed to think." Dread filled her heart. _I did drive him away, and he's come back to tell me he's leaving forever. _She forced face to remain impassive as he finished explaining. "I couldn't believe what you said this morning. I never imagined you might be thinking like that...I didn't-I still don't know what to make of it. I've been trying all day to understand, and I just don't." He gazed up into her eyes. "Is it me? Am I...different now? Did something change without me realizing it?"

Dread was replaced by an overwhelming guilt. "No!" she cried, grabbing his hands. "You haven't changed at all! You're just as amazing, just as beautiful as the day we met."

"What is it then?"

"It's nothing. Nothing real, that is. We've managed to go through so much and still come out intact. Stronger, even. And that's what scares me."

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why does that scare you? Our life, our marriage is good-"

"Sometimes it seems almost _too_ good. It can't be possible that we have it this good."

"Things haven't been perfect. You said so yourself we've had problems."

"But never with each other. It's always been us against the rest of the world, don't you see? I'm scared because I just don't see how we could go on loving and trusting and wanting each other so perfectly."

It was starting to make sense to him. She wasn't scared because they'd changed. She was scared because they _hadn't. _"Rose, listen to me," he said firmly. "There is nothing wrong with us. So we don't fight. And we don't feel the need to spend time with that many other people. We're happiest spending time with just each other. And sometimes we almost speak our own language. And sometimes we don't need to speak at all. That's just how we are. That's just the way our relationship is. Just because we've had two wonderful years together in spite of everything does not mean things are suddenly going to go bad now. And maybe things might get hard again, maybe there's more we'll have to overcome in the future, but we can get through whatever it is as long as we're together."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I should never have-"

He pulled her onto his lap. "Don't be sorry. You got scared. It happens. But tell me what you're feeling next time. Don't let yourself go on thinking like that." He took her face in his hands. "You can tell me anything."

"I know. But I didn't want to upset you. We were planning this trip, and then I was scared of something happening to us, and...things in my head just kept getting worse."

"It's the ship."

"I think it is," she said, breaking into a small smile. "All I've been able to think about for days is what happened the last time we were on a ship."

"You mean meeting and falling in love? I didn't think that was so bad myself."

She laughed. It was just like Jack to focus only on the good. "That's what I _should_ have been thinking about."

"Don't think about any of the other stuff anymore, okay? We're fine, and we're gonna stay that way. And all that happiness you're so nervous about? There's only more ahead. No matter what else we have to deal with before we get there."

AN: The last two chapters have been heavy on the emotional and light on the overall plot, but when they get to Europe things are going to start moving kind of fast so I wanted to get in some "Here's where they are in their heads" kind of chapters before that happened. Also, a friend of mine who's a biology major informed me that two years is the natural "honeymoon" period and then started saying something about how if humans lived "in the wild" we would switch partners every two years. I have no idea if she knows what she's talking about, but it did seem likely that at least one of them might start questioning the overall awesomeness of their relationship so far. And as always, a review makes the author smile.


	112. Chapter 112

AN: I hope no-one minds, but I skipped ahead.

"I can't believe we made it," Rose said. She stretched her arms out and spun around their mid-size hotel room. "We're really here." Jack hugged her from behind. "Did you think I wouldn't get you here?"

"It isn't that. I just...you and I got on a ship together and nothing awful happened. I was so afraid, right up until the moment we docked that..." She let the rest remain unsaid. He didn't need her to remind him of what happened the last time they were on a ship. He squeezed her gently. "I wasn't gonna let anything happen to us. Remember what I said about worrying?"

"I remember. And I'm stopping now."

"Good." He released her. "C'mon then. Let me show you Ireland."

"It's so...wow," Stella said as they walked through the bustling streets of Dublin. They'd gone straight from the ship to their hotel, and the little she'd seen of the city then was nothing compared to what she was seeing now. She looked up at Jack. "Did you really live here?"

"I didn't live here so much as stay here for a little while. I didn't stay anywhere for too long back then."

"Why not?"

Jack smiled. He liked her unashamed curiosity, and the wonder that filled her eyes whenever he talked about his days as a drifter. It reminded him of Rose. "I dunno. I just couldn't seem to stay still very long. I was in Paris for a few months. That's about the longest I stayed in any one place."

"How old were you?"

"You never run out of questions do you?"

Rose laughed quietly. "If you answer the first one you have to keep going," she said. "That's the rule."

Jack looked from Rose to Stella and then back again. "When did we decide that?" he said, with mock seriousness.

"Oh, that's how it's always been," Rose assured him. "Don't you remember how many questions I had when you first started telling me about your life?"

_How could I forget? How could I ever forget the way your eyes lit up when I started telling you stories? _He stroked her palm with his thumb. "I remember," he said, looking deep into her eyes. _And that's when I realized I wanted to take you with me._

"Well, then," she said quietly, "you have to answer hers since you answered mine."

Stella didn't know anything about how Jack and Rose had met except that it had happened unexpectedly. "We just seemed to fall in love overnight," Rose had said when she'd asked about it. And that was pretty much all she said. Stella had sensed there was much more to the story, but that she had been deemed "too young" to hear about it. Now, watching them share an unspoken memory, she wished, as she often did, that her physical age and her mental age were the same.

The sun was setting when they finally returned to the hotel. What started out as a simple walk had evolved into a ramble that lasted several hours. Eager to show them the city, Jack had quickly given up trying to convince them to turn back, though he made sure their exploring only went so far. As much as he wanted to share the city with them, there were some parts he was determined to never let them see.

"I don't remember when I've eaten so much," Rose groaned, flopping onto the bed. She rubbed her stomach. "Why did you let me do that?"

Jack sat down beside her. "You said you wanted to have a 'real Irish meal'," he said, stroking her hair. "Just givin ya what you asked for."

"Maybe my mother's right. Maybe you do indulge me too much," she said with a grin.

He laid a hand on his heart. "I cannot believe you would say that!" he gasped melodramatically. He jumped to his feet. "Our whole marriage has been a lie!"

"Silly Jack," she said, sitting up and grabbing him by the wrists. She pulled him back onto the bed. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but I know where I'd like to go," he said as he leaned in to kiss her. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He answered by kissing her. "I can't imagine where," she said into his mouth. He gently lowered her onto her back. "You'll see."


	113. Chapter 113

**AN: I just wanted to apologize to anyone who is still reading this story for how long an update has taken. I got caught up in my other stories, and unfortunately this one suffered. I hope this chapter is enjoyed though. If you are still reading, feel free to review and let me know. **

They spent the next week in Ireland. It was something of a whirlwind trip. Jack, eager to show Rose and Stella as much as possible, didn't waste any time. He took them everywhere he'd gone during his stay, with a few exceptions. Rose and Stella reacted to everything with an awe that made Jack's heart swell with pride. _I'm giving this to them, _he thought. _All that wandering around I did, it was all for this moment. _

As they ate lunch on the fourth day Rose remarked that she'd never realized Ireland was such a beautiful country. Jack gave her a surprised look. "You didn't?" She ducked her head. "It wasn't something I thought too much about until you mentioned you wanted to take us," she said. "After all, coming here was out of the question the last time I left America."

"When-Oh," he said. There was an edge in his voice. "Of course it was."

Stella's eyes drifted from Jack to Rose. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it was obvious they had both suddenly become very uncomfortable. Rose's mouth was thin, and Jack's eyes had clouded over. There was a tension in their bodies she couldn't remember ever seeing before. They also seemed to have temporarily forgotten she was there. _One of you say something!_ she thought. _Don't just let it get worse. _

"Jack, there's nothing to be upset about," Rose said, laying her hand over his. "I hated that trip. I was miserable the whole time. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. It isn't that. I mean, I'm not jealous or anything," he said. He turned her hand over and lightly stroked her palm with his fingertips. "I just hate thinking about you...with him.." He shook his head dismissively. "It's stupid."

"It isn't," Rose insisted. "I shouldn't have even brought it up. If I'd thought about it more I could have found a way to say what I wanted to say without doing so."

The cloud in his eyes was replaced by curiosity. "What were you gonna say?"

"Just that I would never have been able to experience this without you." His face broke into a wide smile. "I love you." She returned the smile. "I love you too." Stella gave a quiet sigh of relief. She had never seen Jack and Rose exchange a single harsh word let alone have a full blown fight, and she wasn't eager for that to change. The conversation turned to other things after that, but Rose couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. There was just something about his reaction. She didn't know what though. Finally, when they were alone in their room getting ready for bed that night, she brought it up again.

"Jack?"

He stepped out of the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth. "Yeah?" She smiled weakly and shook her head. _Why would you bring this up? What's the point?_ "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have bothered you." He quickly rinsed his mouth and came back into the bedroom. "No, it does matter," he said sitting down next to her on the bed. "So tell me about it."

She studied her hands. "It's about what happened at lunch today."

"Okay."

"Well..." She searched for the right words. "You don't think about that a lot, do you?" Jack sighed. "About him you mean?" She nodded. "Not really," he said. "Sometimes I do. I don't like to. I just can't help it sometimes." Rose raised her head slightly. "What do you mean?" He ran his fingers through his hair as he continued, "You know how you can see something and it'll spark a thought or a memory?" She nodded. "Well, it's like that I guess. I just find myself thinking about all the things he did to us-to _you_, and I just get so damn angry..."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," he said.

"I just didn't realize it would bother you so much. I never meant to upset you."

"I'm not sure how to explain it," he said. "I know you're not secretly in love with him or anything crazy like that. I just don't like to think about the two of you together. The fact that being with him made you miserable actually makes it worse to think about." She wrapped her arms around his middle and let her head rest on his shoulder. "I'll never mention anything like that again."

"You can," he said wrapping an arm around her. "There's nothing you can't talk about with me. You know that."

That night Rose had trouble falling asleep. She lay awake for hours going over everything in her head. _Why did I have to press the issue? It's not like I didn't know it bothered him. It bothers me too if I think too much about it...though if I'd never been engaged to Cal I would probably have never met Jack. _She smiled and snuggled closer to him. He shifted in his sleep and hugged her tighter. _It was all worth it,_ she thought as she finally began to doze off.

The rest of the week flew by, and before any of them knew it the sun was setting on their last day. They spent it in a small village in the country. "I can't believe it's over," Rose said sadly.

"What do you mean 'over'?" Jack asked.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Rose said. "So-"

"So there's still tonight," he pointed out.

"Is there anything left that we haven't done?"

Jack grinned. "Well, there's one thing. I'm can't believe you didn't think of it, but I'm also kinda glad you didn't. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Another one of your surprises?" Rose raised an eyebrow. "Will I have to close my eyes and let you lead me again?"

He chuckled. "Now you do."

A few minutes later the three of them were sitting down to dinner. "When do I get to find out what this surprise is?" Rose asked. Jack just grinned. "Impatient?"

"Curious."

"Impatiently curious," he quipped. "I'm not telling you until it's time, but you can guess if you want." He turned to Stella. "So can you. It's for both of you." Rose and Stella exchanged glances. What could it be? Rose searched her mind. _With Jack it could be anything._Stella hadn't experienced as many of his surprises as Rose had, but she'd seen enough to expect something wondrous.


	114. Chapter 114

"Okay, open your eyes," Jack whispered. Rose's eyes flew open. "I was right!" she gasped. "I thought I heard..." Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, Jack." He smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. "Worth waiting for?" She nodded. "Very much so." Stella drank in the scene in front of them. "Wow," was all she said. Jack laid his free hand on her shoulder. "A good wow?" She grinned up at him. "Uh-huh." Jack stepped forward and held out a hand to each of them. "Then will my two favorite girls dance with me?" They received a few puzzled glances as the three of them attempted to figure out how to fit a third person into a two person dance, but no-one questioned them. It was obvious, even to a roomful of strangers, that they were trying to do more than rewrite the rules of dancing.

A few songs later Rose collapsed into a chair. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. "I need a drink," she laughed. As if by magic a glass of beer appeared at her elbow. She looked up to see Jack grinning down at her. "When did you do that?" she asked. "I never saw you-"

"I got it from over there," he said pointing at the table next to them. It was covered in full glasses of beer. "Oh," Rose said. She laughed again. "I was about to wonder if you could read minds." She turned up the glass of beer. The ice cold liquid felt good going down. "Trying to prove something to me?" Jack teased. She shook her head. "I'm not a first class girl anymore so there's really nothing to prove." _You'll always be a first class girl_, he thought, i_n some ways. But they're good ways. _Rose had all the grace and refinement of her upbringing but none of the arrogance or bigotry.

"Where's Stella?" she asked looking around. "Over there," Jack said pointing. Rose's eyes found the spot he was indicating. In the far left corner of the room Stella was dancing with a boy who looked about her own age or perhaps a year older. He had short, bright red hair. "It's almost like us," Rose said. "Except that it's actually nothing like us."

"Well, they seem to be a bit lost in each other don't they? As lost as two ten year olds can be?"

"She's not ten yet," Rose said quickly. "Not for another month." She didn't know why, but the idea of Stella being any older scared her. _That's just absurd_, she thought. _It's only natural that she would get older. _She pushed the thought from her mind and took another swig of her beer. "Come on Jack," she said happily. She grabbed his hand and jumped to her feet. "Dance with me again."

Rose didn't think it would ever end. A part of her never wanted it to. The music seemed to flow through her veins. It was as if she were no longer bound by gravity. Jack was the only thing keeping her from flying away forever. She didn't know if it was the drinking or the dancing itself or just the sheer joy of being with him, of creating a new version of a cherished memory. It was probably a combination of them all.

But end it did, and before she knew it Rose found herself walking back to the small inn they were staying at for the night. Beside her Jack carried a sleeping Stella. "Wait here," he said quietly when they stepped through the front door. "Why?" she asked.

"There's something else I wanna show you."

Jack carefully deposited Stella on her bed. Her eyes fluttered open. "Jack?" she whispered sleepily. "I'm here." She gave a half smile and rolled onto her side. "Okay. Just wanted to make sure," she mumbled before falling asleep again. He gently removed her shoes and covered her with a blanket. "I'm not goin anywhere," he whispered kissing her forehead.

"What else do you have up that sleeve of yours?" Rose asked as he steered her back outside. "You'll see," he promised. "And you don't have to close your eyes this time. Unless you want to."

"Jack!" Rose turned around slowly. "I...I don't know what to say. I've never seen anything like this. Why did you wait until now to show me?"

"Had to wait for the full moon," he said. "Wouldn't be the same without it."

She looked up at the sky. The moon glowed like some sort of giant pearl. Its light illuminated the lake in front of them causing the water to glitter like a million tiny diamonds. During the day the trees and grass were a bright, healthy green, but under the moon they took on an almost supernatural quality. Rose didn't know exactly how to desribe it. Everything just seemed so much brigher, so much more alive. She gazed up at him with love-filled eyes. "Thank you for showing me this-for showing me everything." Rose shivered as Jack began to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "I'm not done showing you things," he said. She laid a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "I wish I could give you just half of what you give me."

"You may not see it," he said, "but you give me so much." His hands slid down to her waist and he pulled her close. "I meant it when I said I was thankful I won that ticket because it brought me to you," he whispered as their lips met. The kiss started off slow but quickly gathered intensity. Jack held out as long as he could before pulling away. "We should go back if we want to continue this."

"Can anyone see us?" Rose asked quietly. He shook his head. "We're at least a mile away from anyone."

"Then why do we need to go back?"

His eyes widened. "Why, miss are you suggesting-" He was cut short by Rose dropping to the ground and pulling him down with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Under the stars," she whispered. "Put your hands on me under the stars Jack." He hesitated. _You can't let her-_Her lips crashing into his silenced his doubts, and a moment later he found himself lowering her onto her back.


	115. Chapter 115

The sun was rising as they collapsed onto their bed. Jack draped an arm around Rose. She sighed happily and snuggled up against him. "You don't think less of me, do you?" she asked, her lips pressed against his collarbone. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't have the energy. "I was there too, ya know," he said. "I know," she yawned. "But I started the whole thing." He shook his head and pulled her closer. "Don't ever worry about me thinking less of you," he murmured as sleep began to overtake him. Rose wanted to reply, but she just couldn't seem to move her mouth. _Just be still_, her mind told her. _Just sink down…_

_Five hours later_

Rose's eyes snapped open. _Where am I? _She glanced around the room. Jack was sleeping peacefully next to her, his soft blonde hair falling over his eyes. _Oh…I'm just in bed. Wait, when did I go to bed? _For a moment she couldn't remember anything about the previous night, but then it all came rushing back to her—the dancing, the walk with Jack, the full moon shining down on them, the stars…Rose blushed a deep scarlet as the memory of what she'd done washed over her. "Are you blushing, miss?" Jack asked, shattering the silence. Rose whipped around to face him. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Not long," he said. "I woke up a few minutes before you did." As he sat up she lowered her head, letting her curls cover her face. "Are you still blushing?" he asked, brushing back a few of her flaming locks. "You are. Why?" She shook her head. "It's nothing, Jack. Don't worry about it." She quickly climbed out of bed and began to search through her bag. "What time does our boat leave?"

"Two." Jack watched as she fluttered around the room, throwing off her clothes from the previous day and slipping into fresh ones. _Why wouldn't she answer me? And why would she be blushing like that? _ "It's already noon," Rose said, grabbing a brush and running it through her hair. "We don't have much time." He nodded. "I'll get our things together. You go check on Stella." He wanted to ask her again about the blushing, but he knew it would be a waste of time. If she didn't want to tell him she wouldn't. Nor would he try to force her/

The rest of the day was a blur. After a quick lunch they boarded a boat bound for England. Rose held Jack's hand in an iron grip the entire time. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll be there soon." "You know I never really saw England," she said. "I was only there for a day." Jack stared at her.

"Why did they even bother taking you out of America?" He shook his head in disbelief. "And I always thought the rich were supposed to know all about how to travel."

Stella lifted her eyes from her book. The story of one Mr. David Copperfield paled in comparison to the story unfolding in front of her. She had always thought of Jack and Rose as rich, but now Jack was talking as though they weren't. _Really it's more like he's saying he isn't. Or wasn't, I guess. And she was. But that doesn't make any sense. _

"If by 'travel' you mean throw money around to impress and intimidate the locals while at the same time ignoring everything interesting that comes along in favor of spending yet more money, then yes, rich people know how to travel," Rose said dryly. "At least that's how the rich people I knew traveled, and they seemed to be experts."

Jack let out a sharp whistle. "That's a pretty harsh description."

"Consider please, my love, who I am describing," she said, a smile playing about her lips.

"You know your mother's part of it, right?"

She shrugged. "It's still a fairly accurate description. No matter how much she may have changed since then I'm willing to bet there are some things that never will."

"Like the way she travels?"

"Among other things."

"Well, she's trying," Jack said. "I mean, she doesn't hate me anymore. That's something we didn't think would _ever _happen." Stella couldn't believe her ears. _Rose's mother hated Jack? How could anyone hate him? _"You do have a point," Rose said. "And I am grateful she found a way to see how wonderful you are—even if it did take longer than it should have."

"You have to remember that she isn't like you," he said gently. "What you find oppressive she actually enjoys." Rose shuddered. "I will never fully understand her." Jack chuckled. "I never said I did, but it can't hurt to try."

Stella's mind was filled with questions for the rest of the day. She barely noticed anything that went on around her. A few times she caught Jack watching her, a hint of concern in his eyes, but he never said anything. He thought about it, but he told himself if there was something she wanted to talk about she would when she was ready. _And she could just be overwhelmed by everything that's been going on,_ he told himself.

They had no set pattern when it came to who tucked Stella into bed, and that night it just so happened that Jack was the one who did it. "Will you tell me a story?" she asked. He pretended to hesitate a moment before sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Okay," he said dramatically. "If you insist." She grinned. "I do." There was something in her voice that reminded him of Rose. _She could almost be __**ours**__, _he thought. "Tell me a true story," she added.

"A true story? Are you sure you wouldn't rather have an interesting story?"

"The truth _is_ interesting," she said. "Like the stories about when you traveled. Those are true, and they're interesting."

"Alright then. Let me see if there's one I haven't told you…" Jack snapped his fingers. "I got it!" He gave her a solemn look. "Are you ready?" She nodded. "Okay," he said, "once upon a time there was a beautiful princess—"

"I thought you were telling me a true story."

"This is a true story."

Stella sounded skeptical. "It sounds more like a fairy tale than something that really happened."

"Fairy tales gotta come from somewhere, don't they?"

"I never thought about it that way before," she said pensively. "Go on."

"Thank you. So what was I saying?"

"The beautiful princess."

At that moment Rose was about to step into the room but stopped when she heard their voices. She watched through the cracked door. _I thought he only told her true stories? _"Right," he continued. "There was a beautiful princess, and everyone who saw her loved her."

Stella, ever curious, couldn't suppress a "Why?"

"Because there was just something about her," Jack explained. "It wasn't just that she was the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen. She had this passion for life, this fire that captivated anyone who was fortunate enough to see it."

Rose's brow furrowed. _Is he…_

"The only problem was that the princess was unhappy. Desperately unhappy."

"Why?"

"I'm getting there," he said, holding up a hand. "Storytelling is an art, you know. Can't rush it. She was unhappy because she was about to lose her princesshood...or princessship…or whatever you wanna call it. I'm not sure there's even a word for it. Anyway, she was losing it, and the only way she could keep it was if she married a king."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Stella said. "Princesses tend to marry kings."

"You're right. The only problem was the princess didn't want to marry the king. She was being forced to by her people."

"Wasn't there another monarch around?"

Jack chuckled. "You don't make things easy, do you? Let me finish, okay? The people wanted her to marry the king because their country had lost everything—all of its wealth and power was gone. But if she married the king it would all be restored. The country would be even better than it was before."

Rose covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. _He's telling her about us. _

"That doesn't sound so bad," Stella said. "I mean a monarch is supposed to do what's best for her country."

"You have a point. But the king they wanted her to marry was much older than her. Which would have been okay had he been a kinder man, but he wasn't. He was a vain selfish person who only cared about the princess's beauty. He never saw her as she really was. He never saw the fire burning inside of her. She was like a decoration to him."

"Did she marry him anyway?"

"I'm getting there. She was all set to marry him. What else could she do? She had to help her people. They had no-one else. But then, a few days before the wedding, she was walking in the forest when suddenly a ferocious beast attacked her."

"Did it kill her?"

"No. It might have, but a peasant boy who happened to be walking nearby rushed over to save her. Their eyes met, but before they could say more than two words to each other the king and his servants found them, and mistaking the peasant boy for her attacker, the king ordered for him to be locked up." Stella's eyes widened. "Don't worry," he said. "There's more. It seemed like all was lost for the boy when the princess threw herself in front of him. 'He saved me,' she cried. 'You can't treat him this way.' Not wanting to upset the princess any further, the king left the boy alone. And as she was taken away the princess's eyes met the boy's and for a brief moment they felt an almost magical energy flowing between them." Jack paused. "What happened next?" Stella asked eagerly.

He smiled. "I'll tell you the rest tomorrow." Her face fell. "Why tomorrow?" He turned off the lamp next to her bed. "Because it's late. I shouldn't have started such a long story this late." He kissed her forehead. "But I'll tell you the rest tomorrow. Good night, Stella Maris. I love you."

"I love you too, Jack."

Rose was lying on the bed, a book in her hands when he got back to their room. She was doing her best not to look as though she had just ran down the hall and dove onto it, grabbing the first book her hand found. Her mind was reeling from everything she had heard. "So Stella's in bed," he said. He sat down and began taking off his shoes. "I had to tell her another story. She wanted a true one, like always, so—"

"So you told her about the princess and the peasant boy?"

"You were listening?" His tone was serious, but he was grinning. "That's not the kind of thing a princess does."

Rose laughed. "I thought the princess stopped being one if she didn't marry the king." Jack leaned forward bringing his face close to hers. "She never stopped being a princess to the peasant boy." He kissed her lightly. "Every time he saw her it was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. That time when he couldn't stop staring at her because she was just so beautiful he couldn't make himself look away. And even though no-one else knows she's a princess, he does."

"So how does the story end?"

"You'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

**AN: Stella Maris—which as far as I know is pronounced like "Marie"—means "Star of the Sea". There are also some connections to the Virgin Mary, but I'm not too clear on the details. I originally named her character Stella because it means "star" and stars are such a huge metaphor for them. I decided to have Stella Maris become Jack's pet name for her because for some reason I just see him knowing the meaning and calling her that. And a big thanks for all the reviews! **


	116. Chapter 116

Jack didn't finish the story the next night. Stella, exhausted from a day at the beach, was asleep before her head hit the pillow. He just chuckled to himself and tucked her in. "So much for my storytelling skills."

"I thought you were telling her the rest tonight?" Rose asked. "That was the plan, but she couldn't stay awake for it," he said. "Well, I'm awake," she said. "Will you tell me?" He grinned and slipped an arm around her waist. "I have a different story for you."

"You do?"

He nodded and pulled her closer. "I've been thinking about it all day actually," he said, brushing his lips against hers. She nipped at him gently. "Are there princesses?" His hand slid up her back and found the top button of her dress. "I'm getting there," he said. "You'll see."

Jack didn't get a chance to finish the story until about a month later. By that time they had left England, sailed to Norway—their third boat trip in less than a month, which did nothing to lessen either his or Rose's anxiety—crossed over into Sweden after a about a week, then into Denmark, and then finally into Germany. Jack hadn't made it further north than Germany during his two years in Europe, and Rose hadn't even made it there, let alone to any of the other countries.

He gaped at her in disbelief when she told him. "Seriously, why did they even take you to Europe at all?" he asked. "I know I said it before, but I meant it. Did you get to see anything but France?"

"Anything but Paris, you mean?" she said.

"Wait, are you saying that's all of France you saw?"

"Well—"

"Okay, let's officially say that you were traveling with morons," Jack said, putting a hand on his forehead. "I don't care how much your mother doesn't wish I was dead anymore."

"She didn't make very many of the decisions about where we went," Rose said. "She had more of a say than I did, but that's probably because she and Cal always seemed to agree. They both thought all of my suggestions were laughable at best."

"Where did you want to go?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter—"

"Yes, it does. You know it matters to me," he said firmly. _I actually care about what you want, remember?_

And that's how they decided where to go next. They combined what Jack hadn't gotten to do with what Rose hadn't gotten to do and went from there.

A few days after they arrived in Norway they were browsing in a small shop when a camera caught Jack's eye. "Hey Rose, look at this," he called.

"What is it?" she asked, hurrying over to him. He held up the camera. "I believe they call it a camera." She rolled her eyes. "Is that one of those devices that takes photographs?" she said, feigning enthusiastic confusion. "Uh-huh," he said, ignoring her antics. "We should get it."

"We should?"

"Yeah. We don't have any photographs of us," he said. "We don't even have pictures of our wedding."

Stella, who until that moment had been too absorbed by a shelf of antique books to notice anything going on around her, suddenly began focusing all her energy on hearing what Jack and Rose were going to say next. Picking up clues about their life before she came into it had become one of her chief occupations.

"There wasn't anyone there but us," Rose pointed out.

"I know, but that's not the point. I think it's something we should have. I mean, in ten years we can look at them and be reminded of what we were like, of what Stella was like. Or we could just show your mother when we get back home," he teased. "I'm sure she'd love photographic evidence of all the ways I let you run wild in Europe."

Rose couldn't suppress a laugh. "She doesn't hate you—"

"But she'll never approve of me." Jack finished.

Their eyes met, and they gazed at each other in disbelief. Two years earlier such a statement would never have been possible. Neither of them had been able to conceive of a time when Ruth could look at Jack—or Rose, for that matter—without grimacing or when she could speak to them without the words issuing from her lips like polite bullets. It was almost too good to be true. For a brief moment it all seemed too good to be true—their marriage, Jack's career, overcoming all the obstacles life had put in front of them, adopting Stella…_How did I get so lucky?_ Jack thought. _How did a guy like me end up with a life like this?_ Rose was thinking something similar as she slipped her hand into his. "You're right. We do need photographs."

The three of them took turns with the camera. They photographed everything, whether it was noteworthy or not from Oslo, Norway to Frankfurt, Germany—which is where they found themselves on the morning of July 28th, 1914.

**AN: I know the past few chapters have been rather fluffy, but the War's starting now so things are going to get kind of bad for awhile so it only seemed right to balance out the bad with some fluff. **


	117. Chapter 117

Rose was already dressed and brushing her hair when Jack woke up. He sat up slowly, a puzzled look on his face. "What time is it?" he asked. Rose's reflection grinned at him from across the room. "8:30," she said. "I was beginning to think you'd never get up." Jack ran his fingers through his hair and yawned. "I don't know what's wrong with me. "

She laid her brush aside and joined him on the bed. "You feel all right, don't you?" she asked, laying a hand on his cheek. He took her hand in his and kissed it. "I feel fine. Don't worry. I'm not getting sick again." Her green eyes were pools of concern. "Are you sure?" He grinned mischievously and said, "For some reason I just haven't been getting much sleep at night lately."

"Well, if you're complaining the situation can easily change," she said. She tried to stand up, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "Who said anything about complaining?" he asked pressing his lips against her neck. "It's morning," she protested half heartedly. His lips moved down her throat. "Never stopped us before," he murmured. She fought the urge to sink against him. "We can't," she sighed. "Not now anyway." He groaned, "You're right." She took his face in her hands and lifted his head. "Later," she said softly. Jack nodded as their lips met. "Whenever you want."

"I'll meet you downstairs," she said when the kiss finally ended. "Stella's already up, and I'm sure she's hungry." As if on cue her stomach growled. "And so am I," she added with a quick laugh. Jack relaxed his grip on her. "I won't take long," he said as she climbed to her feet. "Take as much time as you need," she said, kissing his forehead lightly. "I know how terribly I exhaust you," she added teasingly.

Jack had no trouble finding Rose and Stella in the hotel dining room. Rose's flaming curls were impossible to miss. She was sipping a cup of coffee, her attention focused on the newspaper in her hand. Stella's gaze roamed the room, landing on everything and everyone in it at least once. Her fascination was obvious. Jack smiled to himself. _That's what Rose says I look like in public, _he thought, finally understanding what she meant.

Rose looked up from the paper when he sat down. "Told you I wouldn't take long," he said cheerfully. She smiled weakly. Her eyes were heavy, almost frightened. "What's wrong?" he asked. She just handed him the newspaper. He gasped as his eyes fell on the large, bold headline "Austria-Hungary Declares War on Serbia!" He quickly scanned the rest of the article. "The declaration came after Serbia refused to heed Austria-Hungary's warning and bring the assassins of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand to justice," he murmured to himself. When he was finished he whistled and laid the paper aside. European art was something he knew a fair bit about, but he knew almost nothing about European politics. The possible results of the assassination, though it had been front page news for the past three weeks, had completely escaped his attention.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Rose asked quietly. He looked into her eyes. _She needs me to have an answer, _he thought. His heart sank as he realized he didn't have one to give. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "But I doubt it'll get any worse," he added quickly seeing the fear that came into both Rose and Stella's faces. "It's just between those two countries. Why would it spread?"

As well-informed as Rose was about American politics she knew next to nothing about the complicated system of interconnected alliances among European countries so she had no difficulty convincing herself that Jack was right. "And we're not in either place," she said. "So we should be fine." Jack took her hand with one and Stella's with the other, his gaze shifting between them. "We'll be fine," he said confidently. "I promise."

They went about their day as though nothing had happened, but Jack's mind kept drifting to the war that was beginning just a few hundred miles south of them. What if it did spread? How could he be so sure it wouldn't, what did he know about European politics? Besides the vague rumblings he's read about months before the answer was a resounding "Nothing really". _I didn't even know things had gotten this bad. _He wanted to believe what he'd said that morning. He wanted to believe things really would be fine, but a part of him refused to be convinced. He gazed at Rose and Stella. They had stopped a few feet ahead to admire a painting that hung in a window. Rose's eyes sparkled as she pointed out something about it to Stella, who clung tightly to her hand and listened intently. His stomach churned with guilt. _What if things do get worse and I can't get them away from it? _He couldn't bear the thought of either of them being exposed to the dangers and horrors of war.

"Jack, come see this!" Rose called happily. He grinned and hurried over to them. The war was a whole country away, but his family was right in front of him. _I can get them back home before anything else happens_, he told himself. _If it even does. _

That night when Stella went to bed she was reluctant for him to leave. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Is it the war?" She nodded. "We're not that far from Austria." Jack smoothed her hair. "You're right. But we don't be here much longer. In a few days we're going to Belgium and then to France. Far away from Austria," he added. She considered his words for a moment before saying, "Will you finish the story?"

"Which story?"

"The one about the princess."

"I'd almost forgotten all about it," he said with a grin. "I hadn't," Rose said from the doorway. He and Stella turned to look at her. "Come hear it," Stella said. "It's good." Rose smiled and sat down next to Jack. "I have a feeling I've already heard it before," she said taking his hand. "Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" he said. Turning to Stella he continued, "Where was I?"

"The princess had just been dragged away by the king," she reminded him. "Oh yeah," he said. "So after that…"

"That's not what the princess was thinking," Rose interrupted. "It wasn't?" Jack asked. "No," she said shaking her head. "She was thinking that she couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy and she didn't want it to end." He smiled and squeezed her hand. "It didn't end, did it?" "No," she said softly. Stella was unsure what to make of their exchange. It was obvious there was something they weren't saying, but she didn't know what.

Jack tore his eyes away from Rose's face. "Anyway," he said, "after that the princess went back home to her castle and the peasant boy wandered the forest for the rest of the night. He knew better than to try to sleep after that. All he could think about was dancing with her…" Stella forgot all about the possible things they weren't saying as she was swept back into the story….

"Did she marry him?" Stella asked anxiously. "She didn't listen to what the people said, did she?"

"What do you think?" Jack said. "I think they were all wrong, and if she married the king instead she isn't as smart as I thought she was," she replied. Rose laughed. "She didn't marry the king." Stella looked visibly relieved. "She knew who she loved," Rose continued looking into Jack's eyes. "And he loved her," he said softly.

Later that night as Stella was drifting off, all thoughts of war banished, a realization struck her. Her eyes flew open. "It's about them."

Meanwhile, in the next room Jack and Rose were finally losing themselves in each other. Little did they know it was to be one of the last carefree nights they would have for a long time.


	118. Chapter 118

**AN: Thanks for the reviews! I've been doing research to try and make the next few chapters as historically accurate as possible so here's hoping I get it right. **

They did their best to continue on as though nothing had happened, but the threat looming over their heads was never far from their minds. Stella began having trouble sleeping. She hid it until Rose caught her reading at midnight with a flashlight. She said her insomnia had nothing to do with fear about the war, but neither Jack nor Rose was convinced. Rose quickly decided that it was one thing if she was kept awake at night by fears but it was quite another for Stella to have the same problem. And so she threw herself back into the task of educating her. Stella reacted enthusiastically. Not only was she always eager to learn something new but she was also always eager to spend time with Rose, who was rapidly eclipsing Cynthia in her affections.

Jack, meanwhile, poured over newspapers and did everything he could to find out as much as possible about relations between the countries of Europe. What he discovered only increased his anxiety. The system of alliances in Europe was like a series of dominoes that could all topple over at any second—and a few already had. Russia quickly announced plans to mobilize an army in defense of Serbia, but so far nothing had happened. Jack prayed it would stay that way at least until he got them safely out of Germany. If Russia made a move against Austria-Hungary Germany was treaty-bound to come to their defense, and Germany was the last place he wanted Rose and Stella to be if that happened. He began to make arrangements for them to leave for Belgium early, but difficulties with their papers trapped them at the border for several weeks. Finally, on July 29th they received word that the Belgian government would allow them into the country, which incidentally enough was the same day Rose started feeling nauseous...

Jack was gone when she woke up, but that wasn't unusual. Since their troubles with the Belgian government started he'd begun getting up at his usual time again. Walking the streets for a few hours before checking for news about their status had become his new morning habit. He didn't say anything, but she knew he was worried about getting them out of the country. She could see in his eyes, which seemed to grow heavier with each passing day, how afraid he was that the war would spread and they would be trapped. She wished she could take him in her arms and tell him everything would be okay-the way he always did with her, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Rose didn't realize anything was wrong until she tried to stand up. She had a slight headache, but that in and of itself wasn't entirely unusual. Headaches seemed to always plague her during times of stress, and the past few weeks had been nothing if not stressful. But she knew this one was different the moment she stood up and the room began to spin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I stood up too quickly or something," she said to herself. But when she opened her eyes the dizziness was even worse. Her stomach lurched as she collapsed onto the bed. "What's wrong with me?" she wondered. She leaned forward and put her head between her legs. "If I just stay like this for a few minutes..."

She was still in that position when Jack came in half an hour later. "Rose, guess what!" he said excitedly. His face fell when he saw her. "Rose? What's wrong?" he cried, hurrying over to her. She halfheartedly groaned an unintelligible answer. "Are you in pain?" he asked, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "My head hurts," she said softly.

"Is that all?"

She nodded.

"For how long?"

"Since I woke up. It wasn't so bad until I tried to walk around," she said, raising her head slightly. His eyes were filled with concern. "I got dizzy then," she continued. "and ended up like this."

"How long've you been awake?"

The pain was excruciating as she lifted her head the rest of the way up. She fought the urge to curl into a ball and cry. "What time is it?" she asked, putting hand on her forehead.

"9:00."

"About half an hour then."

"Half an hour!" Seeing her wince he continued softly, "Rose, honey we have to get this checked out." She shook her head. "I'll be fine. It's just because of everything that's been going on lately." She lowered her hand and looked into his face. "What were you so excited about?"

"They finally decided we can leave," Jack said, his enthusiasm replaced by worry. Rose broke into a smile. "That's wonderful!" He managed a weak smile and nodded. "Why aren't you happier about it?" she asked. "Isn't this what we've been hoping for?"

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean, are you really sure? Not just saying it so I won't worry sure?"

"I'm sure," she insisted. "It's just a headache. It happens. I'll be fine." She took his hand. "Don't worry."

Jack nodded. "If you're sure."

"I am."

"Then let's get the hell outta this country before they declare war on someone."

"I'd like that."

They were on a train by early afternoon. Stella kept her eyes glued to the window and asked every few mintues if they were out of Germany yet. None of them said it, but they all felt relieved when Jack answered, "Yes." Rose leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. _Finally,_ she thought._ Now maybe Jack will be able to relax again. _Her headache wasn't completely gone, but the dizziness and nausea were. She hadn't told Jack about the nausea; he had enough to worry about. And even though just the smell of food made her feel worse she forced herself to eat just enough to keep him from asking questions.

"How's your head?"

Rose opened her eyes. "Huh? Oh!" she exclaimed as his question sank in. "It's fine, Jack." He gave her a long look before finally saying, "Don't think you can't tell me if it isn't." She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Really."

Stella watched them with interest. The morning after her realization about Jack's story she hopped out of bed determined to ask them if she was right but quickly realized the chances of getting an answer were slim. "After all," she reasoned, "if they thought I was old enough to know he wouldn't have made it into a bedtime story. Though it was a really good story." It would have been easy to just forget the whole thing, but it was the only explanation that made the slightly odd conversations she kept hearing make sense. And so she made it her mission to gather more clues. This conversation, unfortunately, wasn't telling her anything other than that something was wrong with Rose. _And she's trying to hide it_.

Jack was coming to a similar conclusion of his own.


	119. Chapter 119

Rose's condition worsened as they journeyed across Belgium. When they got off the train the next morning she could barely move at all without feeling faint, and the urge to vomit seemed to grow stronger by the minute. _You can't,_ she told herself. _Just breathe deeply and keep walking. _Breakfast was almost unbearable. Never before had she been so aware of the scent of food. It thickened the air and made her breath catch in her throat. She stared at her plate and tried to figure out how many bites she had to take to keep Jack from becoming suspicious. Her stomach lurched as she raised a piece of waffle to her lips.

Jack watched from across the table. Her face was ashen. Her eyes were dull. Even her hair seemed to be affected. When they were still on the train he'd tried to convince himself that all she needed was to put some distance between them and the German border. Her insistence that stress was to blame for her symptoms was more than believable. They were all being affected by what was going on. Stella was getting less than six hours of sleep a night—no matter what they tried her insomnia just wouldn't go away—and he was having trouble sleeping and headaches of his own. But now, as he watched her stifle a gag after taking a bite of food, he knew stress wasn't the cause of whatever was wrong with her. _But what could it be then?_

Stella seemed unaware of Rose's difficulty eating. She was eagerly digging into her own breakfast, which Jack noted with relief. But she was actually watching Rose out of the corner of her eye, her own worry mounting as Rose forced down another bite. _Why won't she just tell him she's sick? Why is she doing this to herself? _

_You can do this, _Rose chanted. _Just a little more. _She was too busy trying to keep the two bites she'd gotten down to stay down to notice Jack and Stella's stares. Finally Jack could take it no longer. "Rose, tell me what's wrong," he said. She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" Jack sighed. "Please don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. Please, Rose just tell me so I can help you."

"There's nothing wrong with me," she insisted. "Whatever made you think such an absurd thing?" She laughed nervously. "Is it because I'm eating so slowly? Well, I can fix that." She speared a large chunk of waffle and shoved it in her mouth. She chewed quickly, more out of a desire to get the buttery, syrupy mass out of her mouth than enthusiasm. "See?" she said brightly. "I'm fine." Stella looked over at Jack. _You don't actually believe that, do you?_ she asked with her eyes. He shook his head. _Not for a second. _But he didn't press Rose to explain. Her actions had more than made clear that admitting she was ill was the last thing she wanted to do.

After breakfast they checked into a small hotel. Rose protested that it would be a waste of money since they were leaving that evening, but Jack insisted. "We could all use a nap in a real bed," he said. He gave her a meaningful look. "It might help us feel better." She wanted to argue further but just didn't have strength. "Fine," she sighed.

Jack fought the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to their room. She barely seemed able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. _She wouldn't let me though. She'd keep insisting there's nothing wrong with her. _He shook his head. He had taken care of her when she was sick or when the pain that came with her cycle got to be too much, but he had never seen her like this before.

In spite of herself Rose collapsed onto the bed the second the door opened. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the bedclothes—or rather, the lack of scent. The cotton sheets and pillowcase, though clean, had absolutely no smell. She smiled as her stomach finally began to settle. _Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all. _She lifted her head as Jack began removing her shoes. "What are you doing?" He shushed her. She stared at him as he slipped the blanket out from under her. "Are you putting me to bed?" she asked. He nodded and laid the blanket over her. "That's exactly what I'm doin," he said.

"Why?"

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed. Taking her hand, he said, "You won't admit that you're not okay and you don't have to I guess, but that isn't gonna stop me from taking care of you." The love and concern in his eyes was almost more than Rose could bear. _I wasn't sparing him. I was making things worse for him. _"I feel terrible," she heard herself saying. "I don't know why. I just can't seem to get over it." He gently touched her face. "I'm getting you a doctor," he said quietly but firmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. "Rose, you can barely eat. We have to find out what's wrong or you'll just get worse." She nodded. "Alright." He smiled weakly and kissed her forehead. "Now you know how I felt when you had pneumonia and kept insisting you didn't," she said. He cupper her cheek and looked down into her eyes. "I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you."

"So did I."

Jack paced the length of the hallway. It had been twenty minutes since the doctor arrived and sent him out of the room despite Rose's protests, and since then he had gone from anxious to terrified. "Why is it taking so long?"

_Because there's really something wrong with her._

"No, there isn't. She's sick, but she'll be fine."

_What makes you so sure? If it was something simple wouldn't you be in there by now?_

While Jack was on the verge of making himself sick with worry, Rose was wishing she had never agreed to see a doctor. "Why would you ask that?" she said incredulously. "Because given what you've told me it seems to be the most likely explanation," he said calmly. She stared at him, numbness spreading across her body. "That can't be it," she said. "That—that isn't possible."

"If you've been intimate with your husband any time over the past month or two it's very possible."

"No, you don't understand," Rose said, shaking her head. "I can't have children."

"What do you mean?"

"I—" She took a deep breath. "I had an injury a few years ago, and I was told that because of it I would never be able to carry a child."

"Well, you're still very young," he said briskly. "You'd be surprised at how well the body can heal itself if just given enough time. And to be honest, I can't find any other explanation for your recent symptoms. There's nothing wrong with you really. Now—"

Rose was still reeling when Jack came in a few minutes later. "Hey," he said with a smile. He sat down next to her and took her hand. "Did he tell you what's wrong?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"No. Said you should." He studied her face. Her mouth was tense, and she seemed to be looking through him. Something wasn't right. _It's bad. Whatever it is, it's bad. _"Rose, tell me. Please." Jack held his breath as he waited for her to answer. Finally she said, "Could I use a sheet of your paper? I need to make a calendar."


	120. Chapter 120

A puzzled Jack watched while Rose quickly sketched out a calendar of the past few months starting with March. _What is she doing?_ His confusion grew as she began circling dates. His eyes widened for a moment as he realized she wasn't just circling random dates. For whatever reason she was charting her cycle. _Why would she do that? _Rose chewed her lip and tapped her pencil against the paper. There was a date for every month but June. And now July.

"Rose?" he said hesitantly. She slowly raised her head and met his eyes. Her features were distorted by shock and confusion. "I think I know what's wrong with me," she said. "You do?" he asked. She nodded. "I think I'm pregnant."

Jack couldn't breathe. It was as if the all the air had somehow been sucked out of the room. He was vaguely aware of Rose laying her hand on his. He heard her voice, but he couldn't make out the words. It sounded as though she were calling to him from the other end of a very long tunnel. Finally he managed to choke out, "S-say that again."

Rose's voice shook. "I-I might be..." She couldn't get the last word out. "Pregnant?" Jack finished. She nodded. Disbelief washed over him. "How?" he blurted out. The corners of Rose's mouth turned up slightly. "The usual way I'd imagine." Jack let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "But we can't," he said. "We know we can't." _Are you sure? It isn't as though you got a second opinion or anything. _

"That's what I said when the doctor suggested it, but..." Rose threw her hands up. "He's right. It does explain the way I've been feeling." As if pulled by a magnet both their eyes fell on the paper. "And it explains that too," she added.

"Why didn't you tell me? About June, I mean?"

"I didn't think it mattered at the time. I just assumed all the excitement was affecting me more than I thought. Same for this month," she added."I guess I was wrong."

"Is there a way we can know for sure?" he asked. "Without having to wait?"

Rose opened her mouth to reply but realized she didn't have an answer. Her knowledge extended only as far as the information presented in the biology book she stole out of her father's library at 14, and it had been 20 years old. _My mother might know. _But asking her was out of the question. Rose could already hear the horror in her mother's voice as she ordered her to "remember she was a lady". "I don't know," she said finally. "It isn't something I know very much about at all really."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. He didn't dare hope she might actually be pregnant-at least not yet-but he wasn't going to take any chances. "I'm going to switch our train," he said. Rose gave him a puzzled look. "Why? If we want to get to France by tomorrow morning-"

"We can get there tomorrow afternoon."

"But Jack-"

"It isn't important right now," he said taking her face in his hands. "You need to rest. _That's_ what's important right now."

"What if-"

He shushed her. "Don't worry about the what if's. I'll handle everything."

But they wouldn't make it to France the next afternoon because as Jack discovered, much to his dismay, the next train wasn't for another two days. If they didn't leave that evening they wouldn't leave until August 3rd. He didn't like waiting that long, but he didn't want to drag Rose off again so soon either. If by some miracle she was pregnant the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it. _But if we stay here isn't that doing the same thing in a way? _

_It's two days,_ he told himself. _Only so much can happen in two days. _His nerves were stretched too thin for him to remember just how much can happen in such a short time.

Over the next two days he did his best to keep Rose in bed as much as possible. She protested but did as he asked. She hated lying around all day, but she hated the worried look in his eyes even more. Stella didn't question why they were staying longer. She suspected it had something to do with whatever was wrong with Rose though she didn't ask about her conditon. She reasoned that if they wanted her to know something they would tell her. _Though I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon. _It was clear from the way Jack was acting that he was doing his best to keep her distracted.

Rose managed to eat a little more the next day, mostly thanks to Jack's efforts to find her food with as little scent as possible. "Why didn't you just say that was the problem?" he asked. She nibbled delicately on a slice of bread. "I thought you'd think I was crazy."

"I think you're crazy for not letting me take care of you sooner," he said. Rose's stomach twisted. This time guilt was the cause. "You were already so worried," she said. "I didnt't want to make it any worse." He sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't tell me." He squeezed her free hand. "But you can always talk to me. There isn't anything you can't tell me."

"I love you."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I love you too. Now eat."

Jack was so preoccupied he didn't get around to finding an English language newspaper until the morning of their departure. They were already on the train when he finally began to read it. His face paled as he scanned the headline "Germany Declares War on Russia!"

"Jack, what's wrong?" Rose asked anxiously. She leaned over and gasped as her eyes fell on the words. "That happened yesterday!" The fear in Rose's voice shook Stella to her core. _It's something about the war,_ she thought. _It's gotten worse. _"What should we do?" Rose asked. Jack swallowed his own fear and calmly said, "Exactly what we're already doing. Only now when we get France we're going straight to the coast and getting on the first boat home." But they only made it as far as Calais before Germany made another declaration of war. The target this time was France.


	121. Chapter 121

_August 4, 1914_

There was panic in streets as news of Germany's invasion of Belgium spread. The entire population of northern France seemed to be trying to move as far south as possible before the Germans reached the French border. Rose and Stella silently watched the chaos from the window of their hotel room. They were both thinking the same thing: _Jack's out there somewhere. _

"Let us go with you," Rose begged. Jack cupped her cheek and shook his head. "It's not safe," he said. "Something could happen."

"Something could happen to you too!" she cried grabbing the front of his shirt. "I'm not letting you go without me." He pulled her closer and pressed his forehead to hers. "Rose...no. Just...just no." She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me I _can't_ do-"

"No!" He kissed her forehead. "No," he said again, softly this time. "I'm not telling you you can't do something. You know I'd never..." He pointed at the window. "But you can't go out in _that_."

"But_ you_ can? Jack, that doesn't make any sense." She rubbed her hands against his chest. "You can't jump without me."

"I'm not jumping without you," he said. "It isn't like that at all. It'll take less time if I go by myself. And you don't want Stella out there do you?" She shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "That's the last thing I want."

Jack lightly stroked her cheek. "I know you're scared, but it's gonna be alright. I'll get us outta here. Trust me."

Two hours had passed since then and there was still no sign of Jack. Rose's eyes searched the crowd below. Her heart beat faster every time she caught a glimpse of blonde hair, but disappointment kept setting in as she realized that once again it wasn't him. _Jack where are you? _He said it would be easier and faster if he went alone. So why wasn't he back yet?

The room was almost stiflingly hot, but Rose's hand felt like ice when Stella touched it. She looked up at Rose's face. It was pale. Her features were distorted by fear. _I'm scared too,_ she wanted to say. _I'm worried about him too. _But she knew better than to say that. Jack and Rose tried so hard to keep her from even knowing there was something to be afraid of it would be almost like a betrayal to admit she had a pretty good idea of just how dire their situation really was. "He's okay," she said. "Of course he is," Rose said. She hoped her attempt at sounding confident didn't sound as fake to Stella as it did to her. _He has to be,_ she added silently.

At that moment Jack doing his best not to get swept away in the wave of bodies rushing toward him. Everyone in the city seemed to be heading in the direction he was coming from. _Good luck_ he thought. The only way left out of the city was on foot. There no train tickets to be had at any price-as he knew all to well. He'd spent almost an hour unsuccessfully trying to get his hands on some. Those with cars of their own had fled already.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and lowered his head. _Think! You can't just give up and wait for the German army to come marching in. _As much as Jack wanted to believe their status as Americans would save them from any mistreatment he deep down that it probably wouldn't matter. He'd never been involved in a war before, but he wasn't stupid. Invading armies weren't exactly known for their kind treatment of civilians. Especially women.

"We shouldn't just be standing here like this," Rose said. "It isn't going to bring him back any faster." Stella nodded. "You're right. What should we do then?" Rose considered the question. "Well.." Her eyes wandered around the room for a moment before finally landing on a copy of _Wuthering Heights_ Stella had left on the table. "We'll read aloud," she said, grabbing the book. "I haven't read this one in years," she added. "I don't even know if I remember anything about it."

"It's a good one," Stella said. She followed Rose over to the couch. "I'm near the middle I think." Rose nodded and began flipping the pages. "Here?" she asked tilting the book toward her. Stella nodded. "That's about it." Neither of them believed for a second it would take their minds off Jack-or the situation as a whole-but they were both trying their best to keep the other from knowing that.

When Jack slipped through the door a few minutes later the first thing he saw was Rose and Stella curled up on the couch together. Stella's head rested against Rose's side, one of her arms was drapped across her middle. In Rose's right hand she held a small book. Her left was slowly stroking Stella's hair. They were too absorbed in whatever Rose was reading to notice him come in.

"A movement of Catherine's relieved me a little presently: she put up her hand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her; while he, in return, covering her with frantic caresses, said wildly—" Rose read. Stella's dark eyes widened. Jack smiled to himself. For a brief moment the war, the chaos outside, the danger hanging over their heads seemed so far away.

"You loved me—then what _right_ had you to leave me? What right—answer me—for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, _you_, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—_ you_ have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you—oh, God! would _you_ like to live with your soul in the grave?" Rose continued. Her throat tightened. _Jack. _

Jack cleared his throat. Rose and Stella turned their heads so fast their necks popped. "Jack!" Rose cried joyfully. They leapt off the couch and hurried over to him. Rose threw her arms around his neck as Stella threw hers around his middle. "Hey!" he said with a chuckle. "Careful you don't knock me over!"

"I was so worried," Rose whispered into his throat. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "And here I thought you trusted me." She answered by hugging him tighter. He pressed his cheek against her curls. "It's okay. You don't have to worry anymore." He looked down at Stella. "You either," he said, hugging her with his other arm. "I'm here." _But what good is that doing them?_

"Are we leaving?" Stella asked. A lump formed in Jack's throat. "Not yet," he said. "But we will soon." _You don't know that. She trusts you, and you're lying to her. _"Stella Maris would you mind going into your room for a bit? I need to talk to Rose." She nodded. "Okay."

Rose waited until the door closed behind her before she spoke. "Jack, what happened?" He lowered his head and moved away from her. "Jack?" His shoulders slumped. "I failed you Rose," he said sadly. She pushed away the fear that threatened to overwhelm her and said, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know how I'm gonna get us away from this. I just..." Jack clenched his jaw. "I failed." Rose rubbed his back. "You didn't fail," she said. "It isn't your fault this is happening." She laid her head against his arm. "We're together, and that's all that matters." He gazed at her through tear-filled eyes. "I love you so much," he whispered. He slowly lowered himself until he was on his knees. "There aren't words..." He twisted her dress in his hands and buried his face in her belly. He didn't need for something or someone to confirm whether or not she was pregnant. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. It was as if he'd known she was all along.

"Jack, you can't blame yourself," she said. She bent down and wrapped her arms around him "None of this is your fault. I love you. Jack, I don't know what I would do without you. Do you remember when you made me promise to never give up?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you have to promise me now." She tilted his head up so he was looking into her eyes. "I need you to do me that honor. Promise me you won't give up no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless things seem. Jack, you have to promise me. Promise _us_." His voice shook. "I promise." He took a deep breath. "And I'll never let go." She hugged him as tightly as she could. "Neither will I."


	122. Chapter 122

Jack pushed open the window and leaned out. He was hoping the night air would provide some relief from the sweltering heat inside the room, but it was just as hot outside as it was inside. His shirt felt more like heavy flannel than thin cotton. The way it clung to his skin was almost suffocating.

It was after midnight yet there were still people moving about on the street below him. He retrieved the cigarette he'd tucked behind his ear before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter. He lit it and dropped the lighter back into his pocket. The cigarette was from a pack he found buried at the bottom of his clothes bag. He didn't even remember stashing it there, but he was happy to have found it. He hadn't smoked in months, but that didn't matter. His body responded as though he'd never stopped. In fact it almost seemed to welcome the surge of tobacco and nicotine. His nerves began to settle for the first time in days. As he neared the end of the cigarette he wondered why he'd ever given it up. What was not to like about this? Was it Rose? Had she asked him to stop?

_It wasn't her. It was you. You stopped because you didn't care if you did it anymore. Now why don't you stop wasting your time thinking about things that don't matter and start thinking about things that do. Like, for instance, how you're going to get your wife and children out of this soon-to-be invaded country. _

Jack sighed and flicked the rest of the cigarette into the night. Just how _was_ he going to get them home? It was a question he'd spent all day trying to find the answer to. It should have been easy. They were right on the coast. It should have just been a matter of hopping on a boat and sailing across the English Channel, but as he'd learned on his second trip into the afternoon's chaos, getting a seat on a boat was even more impossible than getting one on a train.

_I should have gone earlier,_ he though. _That should have been what I tried first. I should have been out there at dawn._ But a part of him wondered if it would have made a difference. Was this the price they had to pay to have a child of their own together?

_I got successful and Rose almost died. Our relationship with her mother improved and then her long lost sister tried to seduce me. Stella got to stay in our lives and I almost died. _He pulled a cigarette out from behind his other ear. _That's what I'd call a pattern. _

"Jack?"

He whirled around. Rose stood in the doorway that connected their bedroom to the sitting room. The top buttons of her pale yellow nightgown were undone. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Her curls fell in tangles around her face.

He broke into a smile. "What're you doin up?' he said.

She quickly crossed the room. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm not the one who needs to be resting," he said. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Just because there isn't a chance you might have a child growing inside of you doesn't mean you don't need to sleep," she said. He slipped the cigarette into his pocket. "There's more than a chance," he said putting an arm around her waist.

"We don't know that yet." Rose desperately wanted to believe he was right, to believe she really had gotten pregnant somehow, but fear of getting her hopes up only to see them destroyed stopped her. "There is still a chance we're wrong." She didn't want to see Jack's hopes raised too high either.

He shook his head. "No we're not."

"What makes you so sure?"

He pulled her closer. Gently rubbing her belly he said, "I can feel it."

_I can too_ she wanted to say. But instead she said, "What are you doing out here? Other than smoking, that is."

"You can tell huh?"

"I can tell."

The next morning they woke up to discover Britain had declared war on Germany. All it meant to Jack was there would be even more fighting going on around them, but Rose believed otherwise. She believed it just might be their ticket home. "Think about it," she said. "This city is one of the main ports off the English Channel. They'll have to come through here to get to the northern border, and when they do they'll bring more ships with them."

"Military ships, yeah," Jack said. "But none they'd let us on."

Rose pressed her hands against his. "It's a chance," she said. "It isn't a very good one, but it's all we have right now."

Two days later the three of them stood at the window and watched the British army march through the city. Stella held Rose's hand in a vise-like grip. _They're coming to help us,_ she reminded herself. But no matter what their intentions the sight of so many uniformed men with guns frightened her more than she had ever thought possible. Death wasn't something she had ever considered before, and as she watched the young men moving through the streets in their crisp uniforms, buttons shining in the sun, she realized some of them might never come back. _And they're going to kill the others—the Germans,_ she thought. Suddenly the whole thing just seemed senseless. Her fear melted into anger.

"It isn't right," she said.

Rose turned to her. "What isn't?'

Stella pointed at the window. "That. All of it." She knew she probably wasn't making much sense, but she didn't know how to put what she felt into words. She didn't know how to say it was wrong to watch fine young men march to their deaths. It was wrong for them to be trapped so far from home, afraid of what might happen if the fighting came too close.

"It isn't right," Jack said softly, never taking his eyes off the scene below. "But you weren't supposed to hafta know that yet." Rose squeezed his hand. He wanted to look at her but was afraid if he did he'd lose the little control he still had over himself. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and laid his head against her shoulder. She kissed his hair. Despite the heat his sandy blonde locks were cool against her lips. After a few minutes he said, "I wonder if any of those boats they came on has to go back to England anytime soon."

"We should find out," Rose said. He nodded. "_I'll_ find out."


	123. Chapter 123

**AN: I just wanted to say a few things. First, thanks everyone for reviewing**! **And second, while I'm trying to keep this as historically accurate as possible there are some things I'm having to guess at. I haven't been able to really find any information about what it was like for civilians in Calais during the War-though I'm sure there is some info somewhere. I've just been using the Internet. My plan to spend some time in the WWI History section when I went used book shopping this weekend was a failure**. **So, the battles and dates and such should be correct, but as far as their day to day lives I'm constructing that as best I can based on what I've read. **

Jack had barely made it to the docks when he discovered the thin strand of hope he'd held onto had been in vain. Despite what he and Rose may have told themselves the British had no intention of whisking them across the Channel. Jack knew he had no right to be angry about the baffled looks and round of impatient "No's" he received-who was he to ask them to take the time to help a few people when they could be helping all of France?-but he couldn't _not_ be angry. He wanted to swear, scream, throw a fit until someone-_anyone_-stopped and took him seriously. Didn't they understand what was coming? Didn't they understand it couldn't be allowed to touch his family? Deep down he knew they did understand, every last one of them. They knew the threat that loomed over all of their heads, and they were doing the best they could to stop it before it got any worse.

_It isn't their fault you ended up like this,_ he thought as he trudged back to the hotel. _It's yours. You're the one who wasn't paying attention to what was going on in the world to know coming to Europe was a bad idea. You're the one who didn't act fast enough after the war started. _

He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. The hot August sun beat down on the back of his neck. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. But he didn't notice any of it. In fact, he was cold.

Jack tried to summon his usual grin when he came through the door, but all he managed was a weak smile. "What happened?" Rose asked, though she already knew the answer. "We were wrong," he said. He dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Rose." She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his head down to rest on her shoulder. "You don't have anything to be sorry about." She kissed his hair. "You didn't cause any of this."

"It's my fault we're here. It's my fault we didn't get out when we had the chance," he said flatly. "I could have made sure we got home a long time ago, but I didn't."

She took his face in her hands and lifted his head so they were looking directly into each other's eyes. "We made the decision to come to Europe together," she said. "If it's anyone's fault we're here it's mine as well as yours. And as for getting us home, just how were you supposed to have done that? We got out of Germany as quickly as we could. It wasn't your fault they didn't want to let us into Belgium. What were you supposed to have done about that? And it isn't your fault we had to stay in Belgium those extra two days. It was mine."

He took hold of her arms. "No, it wasn't," he said firmly. "The last thing you needed was to be thrown onto another train. You needed those two days of rest, and if I had to do it over again I'd still give them to you." He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. "I just should've done something _sooner_."

"What? Jack, what were you supposed to have done?"

"I don't know...but I know there has to be something I coulda done to avoid this." She cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he couldn't stop himself. "I don't blame you," she said. "So please don't blame yourself."He opened his eyes. The pain she saw in them was overwhelming. "How can I not?' he said sadly. "I promised to take care of you, and I failed. Again."

They didn't talk about it any more after that, but neither of them stopped thinking about it. As the days became weeks things steadily grew worse. More and more soldiers marched through the city, British as well as French. As she watched them from the window Stella wondered how they could keep coming. Surely that had to be the last of them? There couldn't possibly be any more. Yet a secret part of her hoped there would be more. _If they run out of young men they'll start taking the older ones, _she would think, her gaze landing on Jack. She had no idea he was only 23, and therefore more than young enough to be conscripted were they in their own country.

One morning they were startled to discover they were sharing the hotel with British officers, members of the British Expeditionary Force. Calais was one of the principal ports along the English Channel and as such it was swiftly becoming one of the principal ports for bringing in supplies and men for the war. Rose didn't like going out alone after the BEF moved in. She couldn't explain why, but the presence of so many men wandering around made her nervous. She needn't have worried about it. Jack had no intentions of letting her leave his sight. The one advantage they discovered to being so close to the "puppet masters" as Rose dubbed them was they were closer to news about the war. Although as time went on they began to question whether this was really an advantage considering the grim nature of the reports they were hearing. The German occupation had been limited to a relatively small area-considering the size of the rest of the country, that is-in the north, and thankfully they were far away from enemy lines. But as time went on that seemed to be the only good news they heard.

Frantic telegrams arrived almost daily from Ruth. Neither Rose nor Jack knew how to answer them. What could they say? _She knows the truth,_ Rose thought. _So why bother lying? _But she knew better than to admit to her mother they were trapped with no foreseeable hope of escape. The messages they sent back were much more cheerful than they themselves actually were.

Jack could hardly sleep at night. He tossed and turned, too consumed by guilt and fear to relax long enough to fall asleep. Rose didn't sleep either. She lay still and pretended to. During the day she covered the dark circles under her eyes as best she could and feigned energy she didn't have. The last thing Jack needed was something else to worry about and blame himself for.

Stella knew something was wrong though neither of them ever actually said it. They didn't have to. Jack's eyes spoke volumes all on their own. He moved with a heaviness she had never seen before. It was as though something were pressing down on him. Rose tried harder to hide it, but Stella could see their situation was taking its toll on her too. She kept whatever she was feeling from showing in her eyes, but they were bloodshot from a mixture of exhaustion and crying. Jack's heart broke every time he looked at her.

"I know you're awake," he said one night. He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. "I can feel you thinking." Rose's back was to him. "Can you really?" she asked. He rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around her. "I feel it every night," he said softly. "I've just been too busy hating myself to realize it." He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "And I'm sorry for that." She rolled over and faced him. "Don't apologize. Don't feel guilty. Please, Jack. I can't bear seeing you like this." Her voice cracked. "I hate what you're doing to yourself, and I hate that it's my fault."

"It is not your fault!" Jack cried. He slid his other arm underneath her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You didn't do this," he said. "You didn't do any of this." Rose wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him back. "If you were alone-"

"If I were alone," he said, cutting her off, "who knows where I'd be? I might even be dead. But I don't care because I'm not alone." He touched her face. "I have you. And Stella." Rose held her breath as his hand moved from her face to her belly. Just that morning she had noticed the tiniest hint of swelling. "And our baby," he said softly, tears coming into his eyes. "I wouldn't trade that for anything." He blinked and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Rose dried his face with kisses. "Neither would I," she said. "But we need you. We need you here now, not dwelling on what you could've or should've done. Jack, it's going to kill you if you don't stop."

Jack sighed. "I'm sorry, Rose honey. I just love you all so much. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to one of you." She laid her head on his chest, her ear above his heart. "We'll get through this. We just can't give up," she said. He kissed her head. "I won't if you won't," he said. "I mean it."


	124. Chapter 124

_October 1914_

"Like this?"

Jack eyed the paper Stella was tilting toward him. "Um...here, try this," he said. She watched, fascinated, as he transformed the random lines she had drawn into a small sketch of the tree in front of them. "I don't think I can do that," she said slowly. "It's not so hard," he said, giving her an encouraging smile. "You just hafta practice. _A lot._"

"I don't think any amount of practice will help me get better," she said with a shake of her head.

"I thought that once."

"You can't tell me there was ever a time _you_ couldn't draw."

Jack chuckled. "I guess there wasn't a time I ever couldn't, but there was most definitely a time when I wasn't as good as I am now. When I was a kid I didn't have even half the skill I've got now." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Some of the things I did back then..." He chuckled again. "I'm glad now I only showed them to my mother."

"Did she like them?"

"Yeah. Well, she said she did, but I guess she woulda said they were good no matter what."

Stella gave him a confused look. "Why?" For a moment Jack didn't know how to respond. "Because..." _Because that's what mothers-that's what __**parents**__-do, _he thought. _They encourage you even if you're not that good. But you can't look at her and say that. _"Because-"

"Because that's what mothers do?" she interjected. As he was about to protest she continued, "That's what you were trying to find a way to say. I know you were." She shrugged. "It's okay." He mustered a grin. "Sounds like you didn't need to ask then."

"It's always good to have confirmation," she said.

Jack just nodded. He didn't know what to say. Was there even anything to say? _Did she really not know that or was she just seeing what I'd tell her? _It was a habit of hers, he'd noticed, to ask questions she already knew the answer to just to see if they would lie about the answer. He suspected it was more about wanting to find out how much they were willing to tell her, how much they thought she was old enough to know, than anything else. _No,_ he decided. _That't not what this was. She really wasn't sure. _He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was bent over the paper, the charcoal pencil gripped tightly in her left hand, trying desperately to reproduce what he had done even though she'd already said she couldn't. _I told her she could, and so she's trying anyway. _His heart sank as the full implication of their exchange set in.

"Is that better?" she asked. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's better." It actually was a bit better, but he would have said so even if it hadn't been.

"Okay." She flipped the paper over and prepared to try again on the other side. Jack smiled to himself before turning his attention to his own paper. He cast his eyes around the park and searched for a subject. At first he had been surprised by how many people were out enjoying what was probably going to be the last truly warm day until spring. They were all just going about their lives as though nothing was happening. But then again, why shouldn't they? _It isn't as though wallowing in despair does anything to help,_ he thought, suddenly ashamed of his own recent bout of despair. _But that's over now,_ he told himself. _The world might be going to hell all around us, but we still have to keep going. _

"Jack?"

"Hmm?" he asnwered without looking up from his drawing.

"Is Rose really okay?"

His head snapped up. "Of course she is," he said quickly. "She's exactly the way she's supposed to be right now." He knew because he'd been having a doctor come and check on her once a week for almost a month. The first few times Rose protested. She insisted it was unnecessary and a waste of money, but he wouldn't hear it. "There are no unnecessary precations where you and our children are conerned," he said, pulling her close. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make sure you're alright."

Rose sighed and laid her head on his chest. "But what if something happens and we can't do anything about it?" She didn't want him to worry any more than he already was, but it was a possibility they had to consider whether they wanted to or not. "Is something wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Do you feel-"

"No!" she said quickly. "I'm fine. We're both fine as far as I can tell."

He hugged her tigher. "And you're gonna stay that way."

Rose wanted to ask "What if we don't?" But she knew it would just upset him if she did. It wasn't that she wanted to think about all the horrible things that could happen. She just wanted to be as realistic as possible. Wouldn't it be worse to have never thought about all the possiblities if something did somehow go wrong? "Nothing's going wrong," he said softly. "Don't think like that."

But now with Stella looking up at him, a hint of fear in her dark eyes, he wasn't so sure. _Has she noticed something I haven't? _he wondered. _Has Rose told her something she wouldn't tell me?_ He pushed the thought away. Rose would tell him if something changed or if something didn't feel right. _And even if she wouldn't, I'd see it. _

"Would you tell me if she wasn't?" Stella asked. She didn't have any reason to think anything was wrong with Rose. They both kept assuring her she was fine, but she couldn't shake the fear that, as usual, there was more to the story than they were telling her. She knew Rose was pregnant. They'd sat her down one morning and explained it to her.

"Stella Maris, we need to tell you something," Jack had said. There was a strange blend of seriousness and joy in his tone that was unlike anything she had ever heard before. She looked from him to Rose. Their hands were tightly clasped, but they were both smiling. "Okay," she said, wondering if she should be excited or afraid. "What is it?"

"Well..." he began. He looked over at Rose. "Do want to say it?"

"You've been worried about me lately haven't you?" Rose said. Stella nodded. "You've been sick."

"I've _felt_ sick," Rose said. "But I'm not really."

Stella's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? How can you feel sick but not be sick?"

"That's what happens when a woman is going to have a baby," Rose said slowly. _Was that the best way to say it? _As if he could hear her thought Jack gave her hand a quick squeeze.

Stella's head was spinning. "You're going to have a baby?"

"I am."

"Oh..." She had never asked why they didn't have children of their own, sensing it was a subject neither of them would be willing to discuss, but she had wondered why more than a few times.

"We won't love you any less," Jack assured her.

It was on the tip of Stella's tongue to say, "But how can you not?" It wasn't that she believed they would love her less because as the older child she would need less attention, but rather because she wasn't really theirs and a child of their own would just remind them of that.

"Come here," Rose said softly. She scooted away from Jack and made a space for her between them. "You're our child too," she said when Stella was settled in next to them. "As much as this one is."

"Do you really mean that?"

Jack wrapped an arm around the two of them. "We mean it," he said, placing a kiss on each of their heads.

That had been enough to temporarily soothe her fears of losing her place in their affections, and now, a month later, she was mostly afraid something was going to happen to Rose before it was all over. She studied Jack's face as he began to answer her question, telling herself she would be able to see if he was lying.

Without thinking about it Jack found himself nodding. "I would," he said slowly. _I really would,_ he thought, amazed. "You'd have a right to know if something was going to happen to her." A vision of his mother flashed before his eyes. He hadn't even known she was sick until just before she died. He remembered screaming at his father, "But why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"You're only 13!"

"That doesn't matter!" Jack began to cry. "What were you gonna do try and keep me from knowing when she dies?"

The sound of Stella's voice brought him back to the present. "Jack!" She pressed her hand against his arm. "Jack, are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, flashing her a grin. "I just...I just got lost in my thoughts for a second." Suddenly he felt an overwhelming need to see Rose. "You wanna go back?"

"Now?"

"Yeah." He shoved his half finished drawing back into his portfolio. "Now."

When they came in Rose was stretched out on the couch still in her nightgown. She was quietly reading aloud from a small book. In the moment it took for Stella to run over to her and shatter the stillness with a joyful cry of "Rose!" Jack could only marvel at how beautiful she looked.

Rose broke into a wide smile as Stella's arms collapsed around her. "You weren't gone that long," she laughed. "Jack didn't make you walk around with your eyes closed the whole time did he?" Stella shook her head. "He's never done that," she said, sounding slightly confused. "Well, you're lucky then," Rose said. She looked up at Jack who now stood next to the couch. "He does that to me all the time."

"I haven't been doing that enough," he said. He tried to mask the regret in his voice, but Rose heard it anyway. "Oh, I'm sure you'll start back up again," she said as she reached up to take his hand. He gave her a small smile. "Count on it."

"Well, did you have a good afternoon?" Rose asked, turning back to Stella. "We did," Stella said. "Jack tried to teach me how to draw."

"And how did that go?"

"It's harder than he makes it look."

Rose laughed. "That's what I thought when he tried to teach me."

"Do wanna see what I did?"

"Sure," Rose said eagerly. She swung her legs over the side of the couch to make room for her. Stella scrambled onto the couch, settling in as close to Rose as she could get. "This the the first one I did," she said, pulling a folded up sheet of paper from the front pocket of her dress. Rose nodded and took it. "It's not so bad," she said.

"Turn it over," Stella said. "The one on the other side's better."

"Oh, it is!"

...

"May I sit by the lady?" Jack asked a few minutes later. Stella had disappeared into her room vowing not to come out again until she had perfected her ability to draw trees. Rose smiled and lifted her chin. "I suppose that would be permissible."

He slipped an arm around her waist and laid his head on her shoulder. "You feelin okay?" he asked, gently rubbing his free hand over her swollen belly. He was amazed by how quickly it had grown. It was as if it had happened overnight.

"I feel fine," she said. She put an arm around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry."

"I love you too much not to."

"And I love you too much to let you."

Jack tilted his head up and smiled into her face. "We're in a bit of a bind then." Rose threw her head back haughtily. "Princesses don't get into binds." He laughed and kissed her neck. "Forgive my presumption miss."

A peaceful silence settled over them. They held each other and watched the sunset through the window. It wasn't the best view of it by any means, but they didn't care.


	125. Chapter 125

_November 1914_

They managed to be create small moments of happiness for themselves in spite of everything, though they couldn't have pretended the War wasn't happening even if they'd tried. It was too close to their bodies to be very far from their minds. They could hear the bombs. They heard the British officers strategizing in the rooms above them, their heavy leather boots keeping silence at bay even in the dead of night. They heard the whispers about the possibility of food shortages, whispers Jack vowed would never become realities for anyone but him. They could see the fresh soldiers being shipped in to replace the wounded and the dead.

"Where do all the wounded soldiers go?" Stella asked one afternoon. Jack and Rose exchanged glances. "Do they go home?" she added hopefully. Jack opened his mouth to answer, but Rose beat him to it. "Yes," she said. She shot him a quick look. _Please don't tell her the truth, _she thought.

Stella's eyes shifted from Rose to Jack. "They do?" she said. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, they do." He hated lying to her. He remembered how he had felt when he discovered his parents had lied to him about something. Even the smallest and whitest lies had felt like betrayals. "How could they do that?" he'd ask himself. "Why won't they just tell me the truth about things? I can take it!" But deep down he knew it had been for the best. _And so is lying to her now, _he thought. _It's bad enough she has to see even this much. _

Jack couldn't sleep that night. He lay awake staring at the ceiling. Rose's head rested on his shoulder. They each had an arm thrown over the other. Their bodies were as close as Rose's swollen belly would allow. He tilted his head down and looked into her face. She was sleeping peacefully. Her lips were turned up in a small smile. Her free hand rested on her stomach.

"I love you," he whispered. He lightly brushed his lips against hers. "Both of you," he added, laying his hand on hers. She sighed happily and her eyes fluttered open. "Jack…"

"Sshh…Don't wake up, honey. You need to sleep."

"Okay," she murmured, pressing her face into his chest. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

…

"Jack! Jack, come quick!" Rose's scream ripped through the early morning stillness. Jack's eyes flew open. "Rose?" he called. His heart pounded in his chest. "Rose?" He leapt out of bed and ran into the other room. "Rose? What's wrong?"

She stood next to the window clutching her belly. Her eyes were wide and her smile resembled that of an intoxicated person. He quickly moved over to her. "Rose, what is it?" he asked anxiously. "Is it the baby?" She nodded. Her smile widened. "I can feel it."

"S—say that again," he stammered. She took hold of his wrists and pressed his hands against the spot where hers had been. "I can feel it," she said, a trace of awe in her voice. Jack jumped back slightly. "I can feel it too," he gasped. "Rose, I can feel it!"

"Feel what?" Stella asked, yawning. She rubbed her eyes and slowly made her way across the room. "Is everything okay?" There was a hint of fear in her eyes. "Why were you screaming?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry if I scared you," Rose said. "I wasn't thinking. I was just so…" Tears sprang into her eyes. "I just…"

"It's the baby," Jack said, blinking away tears of his own. "It's moving." Stella's jaw dropped. "You can _feel that_?" Rose nodded. "After they get so big you can," she said.

"Can I—"

"Of course you can!" Rose reached out and took her hand. "It might feel strange at first," she warned.

"Wow! There's really a baby in there!"

Rose lightly touched Jack's cheek. "Yes, there is," she said. He kissed her fingertips. "Our baby," he whispered shakily. "We really made a baby."

"How?" Stella asked.

"How?" Rose said. "Um..well…we…um…That is a very good question." She looked at Jack. "Why don't you tell her?"

"Me?" Jack's jaw dropped. "You want me to—Don't you think _you_ should tell her?"

"Neither of you seem to want to tell me," Stella said dryly. "It isn't that we don't want to tell you," Rose said slowly. "It's just…" She searched for an explanation. _You could tell her the truth. Haven't you said you wished your mother would have told you the truth about things? _"You're too young."

"Way too young," Jack added. "Way, way too young,"

"Why?"

They exchanged glances. A sinking ship, guns being pointed at them, devastating illness. They had experienced all of that, and yet none of it compared to the terror invoked by one simple question. "Because you just are," Rose said. "You'll understand when you're older."

….

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Rose asked.

Jack glanced up from his drawing. "Stay still. About what?"

"The way we answered her earlier. Should we have told her the truth?"

"Could you have told her the truth? I mean really told her the truth?"

Rose frowned. "I guess not since I didn't."

"And I couldn't have either," he said. He glanced up at her. "Don't frown."

"But doesn't it seem wrong that we didn't even lie to her? We just dismissed the question completely?"

"Well, when you were a kid which did you prefer? Being lied to or ignored? I always liked it better when my parents just refused to answer. There was something about them lying to me that always bothered me. Though now I get why they did it."

"What did they lie about?" Rose asked, intrigued by the mention of his parents. She had tried several times to get him to tell her more about them, but he always found a reason not to. "Well, the usual things I guess," he said. "Like when I'd ask something like 'where do babies come from' they'd lie."

"How old were you when you asked?"

He paused. "Um…11. Yeah, that's how old I was. I asked my mother, and she told me to ask my father." He chuckled. "The look on his face…."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter now. I figured out the truth eventually. Obviously," he added, breaking into a grin. She rolled her eyes, but her mouth turned up in a smile. "What did your parents tell you?" he asked. "Nothing," she said.

"_Nothing_?"

"I actually never even asked them anything like that. I knew better. I just stole one of my father's biology books and got everything I wanted to know from there. It wasn't the best source though," she added. "It left a lot out."

"Like what?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If you're going to tease me I won't tell you," she said, lifting her chin and turning her head. "Aww honey, I wasn't teasing." He laid aside his drawing and slid closer to her. "Well, maybe a little," he admitted.

She wrapped an arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "Let's just say what I read gave me the wrong idea about how babies are made. In fact if it hadn't been for you I'd probably have never liked…" Her cheeks reddened slightly.

He gave her a surprised look. "You really believe that? Without me—"

"I'd like you to remind you who my fiancé was when you met me."

"How could I forget?" he said, grimacing.

"Exactly." She kissed him. "I'm so lucky to have you for a husband instead…to be having your baby instead of his." He smiled and wrapped an around her shoulder. "I'm the lucky one." She kissed him again, deeper this time. "We both are."


	126. Chapter 126

Rose ran her hands over her stomach. It seemed to fill the entire mirror. _How can it be this big? _she wondered. _How can my body even handle carrying this around? _Actually, her body was having a lot of trouble carrying it around. She could barely stand up on her own, and if she leaned over too far there was a chance she would tip over. Her back hurt constantly though she was doing her best to keep Jack from knowing. He was already driving himself half-crazy trying to find all the food she was craving and arrange a way for them to get to England; the last thing he needed was to hear about her discomfort.

"Whatcha doin?"

Rose smiled as Jack's arms snaked around her. He covered her hands with his own and pressed his lips to her cheek. "I was just being amazed by how enormous I've gotten."

"You're not enormous."

She grimaced slightly at her reflection. "I really have. I can't even believe I've gotten this big—especially not this fast," she added. Jack gently turned her head so she was looking over her shoulder at him. "I think you're beautiful." She opened her mouth to protest, but he laid a finger against her lips. "I know you don't feel beautiful right now. I get that. I'm not sayin this because I think it'll change how you feel. I know you won't feel right until after the baby's born, but…well, I still think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and that's not gonna change." He lightly kissed her cheekbone. "I just want you to remember that."

She laid her head against his chest and wrapped an arm around his neck. "I don't deserve you," she said. "Oh yes you do," he said firmly. He pulled her closer. "You deserve even better than me," he added. She bent his head down and kissed him fiercely. "There is no-one better than you. Not for me."

One of his hands stroked her face and the other her belly. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many ways he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, what a gift she was, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was "Do you feel like eating dinner?"

"I could eat two actually."

"Then two you shall have," he said with a grin.

….

Rose sighed heavily and pushed her hair out of her face. She was beginning to regret her decision to take it down before going to bed. Her back ached, and she knew it was probably all in her head, but for some reason just the thought of her hair touching her skin made her want to rip it out. She tried to roll over, but the weight of her stomach made it impossible. She clenched her jaw and blinked back tears of frustration.

Jack rubbed his eyes. "Rose, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

He sat up. "Are you sure?" He leaned over her. "You don't sound—Rose honey, are you crying?" She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "No. I'm just having trouble sleeping. I'm fine, really." She opened her eyes and twisted around so she was looking at him. "See," she said, breaking into a smile. "No tears."

Jack slowly ran his thumb down her cheek. "What do you call that?"

Rose frowned. "Something you weren't supposed to see."

"Why would you say that?" He cupped her cheek. "You know I don't—"

"I know," she said. Her voice cracked slightly. "I just didn't want you to have to deal with this too." Fresh tears filled her eyes. "You—"

"Wish you had told me sooner about whatever's wrong," he said. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. "But you didn't so tell me now." She collapsed against him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in the small space between his chest and his throat. "Rose honey, please talk to me," he said. He began to gently rub her back. "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." Suddenly he felt as though an icy hand were squeezing his heart. _What if it's the baby? What if something's wrong—No! That's not it. Don't even think like that. __**Nothing**__ is going to happen to either her or this child. _

"It's stupid really," Rose said quietly.

"I don't care. I wanna know anyway."

She sighed and raised her head. "It's my hair."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Your hair? What's wrong with it?"

"It keeps getting in my face and touching my neck! It—Oh, it isn't even that really. I mean, it is that, but that isn't all of it." Her words came out in a rush. "I can barely sleep. I have trouble just moving my body. My back aches constantly. I feel so enormous, and I can't stand it. I can't seem to stay in one mood for more than a few minutes at a time. I fly back and forth between wanting to scream and cry and wanting to sing with joy and wanting to kiss you until we're both dizzy….I know it's not going to last. I know it's because of the baby, and I can't ever tell you how grateful and how happy I am we're getting to have this child…but sometimes I just feel so…" She pressed her face against his neck. "Jack, I'm sorry."

Guilt washed over him. _Why didn't you notice she was feeling like this? _"Rose, you don't have anything to be sorry about," he said. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should've seen—"

"No!" Her head shot up. "You do enough to take care of me—of all of us." She touched his face. "I couldn't ask for a better husband and friend and lover and father of my children. I already told you that." He smiled and kissed her fingers. "I just want to be the best I can for you," he said.

"You are. I couldn't ask anything more from you."

"You aren't asking. I'm giving." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You know you can tell me anything. I want to help you through this. I know there's some things I can't do anything about, but I'll try."

"You're already feeding me enough for three people," she said with a quick laugh. "And somehow you keep finding everything I want." He grinned and kissed her forehead. "And I'll keep right on doin that too."

"No matter how big I get?"

"Honey, I already told you that doesn't matter to me. When I look at you all I see is how beautiful you are." He laid his hands on her stomach. "And when I look at this all I see is our baby. I see the life we created together growing and getting stronger everyday. Because of you."

"It's because of me we almost couldn't make her at all," Rose pointed out, sadness and guilt blending in her voice.

"You know that wasn't your fault." Jack pressed his forehead to hers and held her tightly. "None of that was ever your fault. And it is because of you we're going to have this child."

"We made her together. You were involved too."

"Yeah, I know, but what I did has been over for about six and a half months now. You're the one carrying her." His eyebrows knit together. "Wait. Did I say her? _You_ said her! But we don't know—"

"I think it's a girl. I don't know why. I just do. I know you'd probably rather have a son—"

Jack cut her off with a kiss. "When did I ever say that? It doesn't matter either way to me…as long as she looks like you."

"No! She has to look like you!"

He made a face. "Rose, do you hate our child?"

"Jack, have you ever looked at yourself?"

**AN: Thanks to everyone for reviewing! I encourage you to continue to do so! Please? Anyway, this wasn't a terribly plot heavy chapter, but the next one will be. **


	127. Chapter 127

_KNOCK _

Rose groaned and pressed her face into Jack's chest. He slid his hand from her hip to her shoulder. "Did you hear somethin?" he murmured. Her reply was almost inaudible, but even half-sleep he knew it was a "No". "Okay then..."

_Thump. Thump. _

Jack's eyes snapped open. He jumped up so fast he almost flopped Rose off the bed."Honey!" He threw an arm around her. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, the mysterious sound completely forgotten.

"I'm fine. What was that?"

"I don't know," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm gonna find out."

_THUMP. THUMP. THUMP._

Rose clutched the back of Jack's shirt as they crept toward the door. He had considered telling her to stay behind, but he knew if he did it would cause an argument they didn't have time for. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to breathe normally. _It's nothing_, he told himself. _People come and beat down your door at the crack of dawn_ _all the time. During a war. Yeah. It's_ _nothing._ He took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorknob. Rose pressed herself against his back. She was gripping his shirt so tightly her knuckles were white. Jack gave her a quick smile over his shoulder. "Don't worry." They both held their breath as he cracked open the door.

"Mr. Dawson?" The man had an English accent that was as crisp as his uniform. His light brown hair was combed back, his eyes were a dull gray, and his mustache turned up slightly at the corners. There was a second man behind him, but Jack could only see a tuft of flaming hair over the first man's shoulder. "Yes?" he said, drawing himself up to his full height. At 6" 2' he towered over both of them. "What do you want?"

"Ah, well..." The man tossed a look over his shoulder to his companion, who shrugged in response. "Some help you are," he muttered before turning his attention back to Jack. "Would it be possible for us to come in and discuss that?"

Jack eyed him warily. "How about you tell me who you are first?"

The man looked embarrassed. "Oh, yes, yes, of course," he said quickly. "I'm Major Tom and this," he stepped to the side, "is Captain Bell. We've been staying upstairs for the past few months." Jack nodded. "Yeah, we've hard you," he said, stepping aside to let them in. He pushed the door closed behind them and crossed his arms over his chest. Rose slipped one of her arms through his. There was a lump in her throat. _This can't be good,_ she thought. He laid his hand over hers and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Major Tom looked cast a quick glance around the room, waiting for an invitation to sit down, but realizing that no such invitation was coming, he cleared his throat and nervously smoothed his hair back. "I'm very sorry to have disturbed you like this," he said. Jack shot him a look that said, "Well, then you shouldn't have."

The meaning of his look wasn't lost on Major Tom who cleared his throat again and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Captain Bell stared straight ahead, his bright green eyes glued to the wall. He had served as the Major's aide for the better part of six months, and in that time he had learned it was best to stay quiet and unnoticed while the Major trudged through the hemming and hawing that seemed to accompany every attempt he made to speak with another person. Despite herself Rose kept giving him curious glances, which he either didn't notice or chose to ignore. She was torn on which it was.

"Yes, well, I do apologize," Major Tom said. "It's just that, you see, we have a rather urgent matter to discuss with you."

"I'm listening." Jack's voice held a slight edge. He knew it was probably not a good idea to smart off to a uniformed military officer—especially during a time of war _and_ while in a country that was not his own—but he was too angry to care. What, besides a regiment of Germans marching into the city, could possibly be so important they had to scare them out of bed at dawn? "We have a child," he wanted to say. "Did you ever think about that?" Out of the corner of his eye he could see Stella's door was cracked. She was no doubt listening to everything and waiting to see what was going on before deciding whether or not to come out. _Probably scared the hell outta her,_ he thought. He didn't blame her. It wasn't the pleasantest wake-up call he had ever received. He knew Rose had been terrified. She was still clinging to him. He gave her hand another squeeze. _It's okay, honey. _

"I hate to have to do this." Major Tom's shoulders drooped. "But I've been told to ask you to leave. We need this space—"

Rose gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth. He kept speaking, but she didn't hear any of it. Leave? Had he really said they had to leave? _But where will we—where __**can**__ we go?_ she thought frantically. _It isn't as if we can just go home. _A wave of anger washed over her. _It isn't as though we __**want**__ to be here! We've been trying for months to go home! If you would just let us get on one of those boats that goes back to England we wouldn't be having this problem, would we? _Deep down she knew she was being irrational; the situation was greater than any of them. Odds were neither of those men had personally done anything to keep them from getting back home, but at that moment she didn't care. They were the one standing in front of her telling her to leave the makeshift home they had created for themselves, and so as far as she was concerned they were just as to blame as anyone else.

"What?" Jack cried, springing forward slightly. "Are you telling me my family and I have to leave because when you decided to use this building you didn't realize our being here would end up being a problem? Because you didn't realize you would eventually need the rooms we're in?" His voice rose. "It's a Goddamned war! I wasn't aware that anyone could expect _anything_ during a war! Except that a buncha people are gonna die." Major Tom opened his mouth to reply, but Jack cut him off. "And might I add, it's a war we don't have any part of. We're not French. We're not English. We're not…We're Americans, and all we've been trying to do since this whole thing started was get the hell _out_ of this country. Which, by the way, no-one seems to want to let us do." He didn't know what had come over him. It was as if by telling them to leave the Major had shaken the bottle Jack's anger, fear, and frustration had been poured into over the past months and then pulled the cork out. "I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "None of that really has anything to do with you." Rose wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on his shoulder. He threw an arm around her and hugged her tightly. "Jack, don't worry," she said softly. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

It was all Captain Bell could do to keep looking at the wall. He sighed quietly and stuffed his hands in his pocket. All he had really seen of Rose was her hair, but that was enough. It was just like his own wife's hair. _I know how you feel,_ he thought. _I'd be doing the same thing if I was at home and this was happening to us. _

During Jack's outburst Major Tom's face had gone from pink to red to scarlet and now it was back at pink again. "I'm not sure there's anything I can do about getting you out of France," he said apologetically. "I do understand you're Americans, and I believe possibly entitled to special privileges given your country's current position on the War, but I don't know anything conclusive." Jack and Rose just held each other silently, neither acknowledging they had heard him. "I can help you find another place to go," he offered. "If you'd like."

…..

Rose sank onto the floor as the door closed behind the two men. She buried her face in her hands and breathed deeply. Dimly she heard the door lock with a series of angry _clicks. _"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, kneeling down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'm so sorry." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "This is not what I ever meant to happen to us."

Stella crept out of her room. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pinched with fear. Rose wiped her eyes and lifted her head. Catching sight of Stella she held her arms out. "Sweetie, come here," she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. Stella hurried over to them, dropping down in front of Rose. She leaned forward to accept her embrace. "They're really making us leave, aren't they?" she asked. "They really are." Rose smoothed her hair. In the early morning light her black tresses shone like some kind of dark jewel.

"But we'll be fine," Jack said, moving his arm so he was holding both of them. "I promise."


	128. Chapter 128

They ate breakfast in silence save for the sound of silverware on plates. Jack stared at his food and ate mechanically. His shoulders sagged. His usual grin had been replaced by a heavy frown. With every bite he took his food became more and more like thick clumps of dust. It was all he could do to keep eating. If Rose hadn't been watching him the whole time he probably wouldn't have bothered to even begin.

Rose fought the urge to reach across the table and touch his hand. _I love you,_ she thought. _I'm here. Talk to me. _But he wouldn't. He would shrug it off and force himself to grin, all the while insisting he was fine. She sighed and pushed her plate away. Her ravenous appetite was finally gone.

Jack's head shot up. "Why aren't you eating?"

"I don't really feel like it," she said with a shrug. He leaned forward and touched her hand._ You're supposed to be the one doing this, _she thought angrily. _You aren't supposed to always make him. _The fact that he probably would have resisted her attempt to comfort him did nothing to stop her from feeling guilty. "Rose, you have to eat," he said. He lightly ran his fingertips over her hand as his eyes met hers. _If you really want to help me you will. _She nodded. "Okay."

One of the knots in Stella's stomach loosened slightly as she watched them. If they were still communicating silently then things couldn't be all bad. The thought of something being amiss between them frightened her even more than the thought of living on the French streets as winter came on. _But that won't happen,_ she told herself. _Jack won't let that happen. _

...

"Rose?" Stella approached her cautiously. She was staring out the window, her chin resting on her hands. "Hmm?" she answered without turning around. "I'm going outside-out to the back garden-for awhile." Rose nodded. Stella waited to see if she would say anything else, but after a few seconds it was clear she wasn't going to.

She had already reached the door by the time the full meaning of her words hit Rose. "You can't go out dressed like that," she said, turning to face her. "It's too cold. Go and put something heavier on." Stella smiled. "Okay!" she called as she ran to her room. "Is this good enough?" she asked a moment later. She had pulled a light sweater on over her dress.

"Is that the best you have?"

"Yes," she said slowly. She looked down at herself, suddenly realizing her clothes had been designed with June in mind not late November. "I can't go out, can I?"

Rose gave her a long look. She didn't want to tell her no, but she didn't want to tell her yes either. "Go and ask Jack for one of his jackets," she said finally. "You should be warm in that." As she watched her dash away a sickening realization hit her. _It's going to be even colder soon. _She drew her arms around herself. Just thinking about it made her shiver. "We forgot all about winter," she said softly. "We were supposed to be home by now...we're not prepared for this at all." What were they going to do? None of their clothes would do once winter set in. Her own clothes probably wouldn't even last that much longer. Thanks to some creative sewing she had managed to alter most of her dresses so they accommodated the ever-increasing size of her belly, but there was only so much she could do. She ran a hand over her middle. "If you get any bigger I won't have anything to wear at all."

_You know what Jack would say if he knew that. _

_He doesn't need to worry about that too. _

_And you know what he'd say if he heard __**that. **_

...

"You okay?" Jack didn't give her time to answer. "I guess that was a stupid question," he said, slipping his arms around her. He laid his chin on her shoulder. Rose tiled her head so her cheek was resting against his. "It wasn't a stupid question," she said. "I could ask you the same thing. You wouldn't answer though."

He pulled her closer. "I'm okay." He smiled weakly. "See, I answered without you even having to ask."

"You're just saying that."

"And here I thought I was a good liar."

She twisted around to face him and wrapped an arm around his neck. "Only when you're not lying to me." He cupped her cheek. "I only lied because I don't want to hurt you." She laid her hand on his. "I can handle it," she said softly. "What you're feeling, you don't have to feel it alone." He avoided her eyes. "Jack, I'm scared. And I'm angry. And I'm..." She sighed. "I need you, and I know you need me. Whether you want to admit it or not," she added, slipping out of his grasp.

"Rose."

She stopped. The sadness in his voice made her heart ache. "Jack."

"Don't go. Please."

She turned around. His eyes were filled with tears; he was holding his hands out. "I wasn't really going anywhere," she said, throwing herself back into his arms. "I wouldn't have ever really left you." She hugged him tightly. He buried his face in her neck. Her curls soaked up his tears. "I do need you," he whispered. "I need you so much."

"Sshh..." She gently stroked his hair. "It's all right, darling. You don't have to worry about anything. You've dealt with enough. I'll handle this."

The next morning Rose was the first one up. She dressed quickly in the dark, careful to make as little noise as possible. She placed a soft kiss on Jack's lips before slipping out of the room. On her way to the door she stopped and peeked in Stella's room. She was sleeping peacefully, an open book tucked under her pillow. Rose smiled as she gently shut the door. She rubbed a hand over her stomach. "Will you be like that?" she whispered.

...

Jack was still rubbing his eyes when he came into the front room. Stella was already dressed and sitting by the window. There was a book on her lap, but she seemed to have forgotten about it. "Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"Newspaper came."

"Thanks." He grabbed the paper off the table and sat down on the couch. "Where's Rose?" She gave him a confused look. "What do you mean? She was with you."

"No. When I woke up she was gone. Are you saying you haven't seen her either?"

Stella nodded. "Not once since I got up."

Jack's mind raced. Where could she be? Where would she go? And then her words from the day before came back to him. "Oh no," he murmured. "She wouldn't." He leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. "She did."

Stella lightly touched his shoulder. Her stomach was tying itself in knots. "Jack? Do you know where she is?" He raised his head. "No. But I know what she went to do."

"What-"But before she could say anything else the door burst open and Rose rushed through it, a blast of cold air coming in with her. Her cheeks were red, but there was a triumphant smile on her face. Jack leapt off the couch and crossed the room in two steps. Before she knew what was happening his arms were around her.

"Why did you do that?" he cried. "Why Rose?" He kissed her deeply. "Do you know how scared I was? Why would you go off like that and not tell me?"

"If I'd told you you would have tried to stop me," she said breathlessly.

"Because that's not something you should have been doing! Anything could have happened to you!" He twisted his fingers in her curls. "You should have let me handle it," he said quietly.

"I already told you I was handling this."

"That isn't jumping together."

"Neither is you taking everything on yourself."

Jack sighed. "I love you." He kissed her again. "I love you so much."

Stella didn't fully understand everything that had just happened, but she did understand things were the way they were supposed to be between them. And for once, she was content not to know anything else.

Later that afternoon they gathered their things and left. Rose had found a large, fully furnished top-floor apartment a few blocks over. Its occupants had fled to Paris, and so she was able to talk their agent into renting it to them for a fraction of what it should have cost.

"Since you did that," Jack said. "You're letting me do the next thing."

"There's a next thing?"

He fingered her thin cotton dress. "Don't think I didn't notice you shivering on the way over. Or how cold you were when you came in before."

"That doesn't-"

"It does. The last thing either of us should be doing is acting like the cold doesn't matter," he said.

"Do we have the-"

He silenced her with a kiss. "Yes, we do. And even if we didn't..." He grinned. "I'd think of somethin."

_Early December 1914_

_Philadelphia_

Ruth absentmindedly flipped through the morning mail. Why did people she never spoke to persist in sending her cards every year? _The least they could do is send some money along with the false sentiment,_ she thought. She was just about to toss the last one aside when her eyes fell on the return address. _France. _"Oh dear God," she gasped. She tore the envelope open and ripped the letter out. She had to read it twice before she was sure she understood it. She sat back in her chair and let it flutter to the floor. "I can't believe it," she murmured. "And they waited until now to tell me."

"Dear?" Thomas leaned toward her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said distantly. "I'm fine."

"Why don't you read the rest of it?"

She gave him a confused look. "The rest of what?"

"The letter." He handed her the nearly destroyed envelope. "There's another sheet of paper in here." He eyed her with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" She ignored him. "Another..." She slowly removed the second sheet of paper. "What else could-Oh!" Her hands flew to her mouth. "I should have known he would..."

The drawing was creased from being folded, but she didn't notice. It was a simple charcoal sketch, much like the others Jack had sent her, but this one featured something all the others had lacked. A very pregnant Rose. Ruth snatched the letter off the floor. She quickly scanned it, stopping only to read key phrases. She held the letter in one hand and the drawing in the other. "It's true," she said in a dazed voice.

"What's true?"

She handed him the papers. "See for yourself."

He quickly read the letter. "Why didn't they say something sooner?" She didn't respond. He shot her a quick glance before laying the letter down on the table. _A bit of warning would have been nice,_ he thought. _Maybe they could've found a way to tell her slowly, little by little. _But that was just absurd, wasn't it? How could they tell her slowly in a letter? It wasn't the same as having a conversation. There could be no pauses to let the other person digest what they were hearing.

He carefully examined the drawing, his art collector's eye quickly taking over. Jack truly did do exquisite work, and it didn't matter if he was just dashing off a quick picture of his wife. He took the same time and care with every piece of art he made; anyone could see that. He was just about to lay it aside when he noticed a small arrow in the lower right hand corner. "I think there's something more to this," he said. He held it out to her. "Would you care to take a look?"

She nodded absently and took the drawing from his hands. "Where?"

"Turn it over."

_I know we waited a long time to tell you,_ she read, _but for awhile we were afraid to even tell ourselves. _

She closed her eyes and laid a hand on her forehead. "I've left this up to them for too long."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying if I expect to see them again before the War ends I'm going to have to make it happen myself."


	129. Chapter 129

_Washington, D.C. _

_Mid- December 1914_

"It's your turn to talk to her."

Stephen Mills sighed. "I talked to her this morning. It's _your_ turn." His officemate, Robert Parker shook his head. "I talked to her at noon. I even listened to her complain about how ineffective you were this morning." Stephen closed his eyes and pressed his index finger against his forehead. _Just another hour and you can go home. _"Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll go see what she wants now. As if we don't already know," he added over his shoulder. _As if she hasn't been in here everyday for a week demanding the same thing. _

He paused before stepping out into the lobby. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and forced himself to smile pleasantly. It was his last hour at work before the weekend, and he most definitely did not want to spend it getting yelled at by this woman. Not again, at least.

"So they sent you again?" Ruth eyed him dubiously. "Doesn't anyone else work here?" He swallowed the first reply that sprang to his lips. "Everyone else is busy with something else at the moment," he said. "It's a rather large department. We've got a lot to do."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," she said in a voice that made clear just how unsure she really was. "I don't suppose you've made any progress on my case?"

"I already told you this morning, we are doing everything—"

"And I told you," she said, firing the words at him like bullets, "if this is your best I shudder to think what your worst must look like."

"Mrs.—"

"Listen to me." Her mouth was thin, her light green eyes narrowed. "I will be in this building, on this floor, standing outside your office door until the day you finally use the resources I know for a fact you have at your disposal and get my daughter and her husband back into this country."

Two days later Ruth received a phone call from the State Department informing her that the English military stationed in Calais would be handling the situation. "That's what I thought," she said as she hung up the phone. She leaned back in her chair and smiled to herself. "A firm hand is all it takes."

_Christmas Eve 1914_

_Calais, France_

"Rose?" Jack peeked through the front door of the apartment. "Rose, are you here?" _Where else would she be? _Since entering her seventh month of pregnancy she was bigger than even he had anticipated—a part of him secretly wondered if they weren't having twins, but he kept quiet about his suspicions for fear of getting her hopes up—and that combined with the cold kept her indoors just about all of the time. "In here," she called. "Where were you?" He could tell her voice was coming from the sitting room in the middle of the apartment. On his way he slipped into their bedroom and hid the package he was carrying underneath their bed.

"Where were you?" she repeated when he came in. He gave her a quick kiss. "Whatcha doin?" he asked, throwing a curious glance at the pile of dark green wool yarn covering her lap. "Knitting…or at least I'm trying to." She tentatively held up a snarled half-knitted line. "It doesn't seem to be going very well." She sighed. "I'm afraid I'm just not a very good right."

"You're right," he said solemnly. Her face fell. "You're the best wife a guy could ask for."

"How dare you scare me like that!" She crossed her arms and turned away from him. "Are you really upset? Or is this one of those times when you pretend to be upset and when I try to apologize you turn around and jump on me?"

"Am I that predictable?"

"I wouldn't call it predictable. I just know you pretty well."

She turned around. "You know me better than anyone." He smiled. "I could say the same thing about you." They were on the verge of getting lost in each other's eyes when Rose felt the baby give her a sharp kick. "Oh!" she cried, grabbing her stomach. "What is it?" He moved closer to her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. That was just…well, that was a hell of a kick."

Jack gently laid a hand on her stomach. "Are you kicking your mother?" he asked softly. "Yes, she is. She's been kicking me a lot lately." Jack rubbed her stomach. "You're eager to get out here aren't you?" Rose laughed. "I'm eager for her to as well."

"So am I." His eyes lit up. "Sometimes I try to imagine what she'll look like."

"Like you."

He made a face. "Rose," he said, stretching her name out to twice its usual length. "Yes, Jack?" she replied, mocking his whiny tone. He broke into a grin. "So I'm guessing you don't want to hear my opinion of what our daughter is going to look like?"

"If you say me I swear I will—"

He cut her off with a kiss. "You'll what?" he teased. She moved her head away. "Not kiss you ever again."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well, we'll have to see about that…"

Stella paused, her hand on the knob of the sitting room door. She pressed her ear against the wood. A smile spread across her face as the sound of Rose giggling and Jack murmuring softly filled her ear. "They're happy," she whispered to herself. It had been weeks since she had heard Rose laugh like that. She sighed; the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt them, but she didn't have a choice.

"Jack? Rose?" she said softly, opening the door slightly. They were on the couch. Rose was sitting on Jack's lap. Her eyes were closed, her arms around his neck. isHis head was bent down so she couldn't see his face. "Rose?" she said, louder this time. Rose's eyes snapped open. "Stella!" she cried. Jack's head shot up; his cheeks were already turning red. Rose slid from his lap and pulled herself to her feet. Her damp palms seemed to stick against the fabric as she smoothed her dress.

"Um…there's a man at the door asking for you," Stella said. Jack leapt to his feet. "What kind of man? Did he say what he wants?" She shook her head. "He was British, and he wore a uniform. All he said was he needed to talk to you two."

Rose grabbed his hand. "What do you think they want this time?"

…

The front door might have remained wide open all night had Stella not noticed it on her way to her room. She quietly closed and locked it. "I can't believe no-one closed it sooner," she said in a dazed voice. She stood there, her hand on the knob. "But I can't believe we're going home either."


	130. Chapter 130

**AN: I hope there are people still reading. I know it's been ages since I updated, but there just hasn't been time. Things are looking up though. This chapter is pure fluff, just a heads-up. More plot will be included in the next one. **

_Christmas Day_

_1914_

Rose was awake for a few minutes before she opened her eyes. She laid there, one hand on her stomach, and listened to the sound of Jack's breathing. His arms were wrapped tightly around her; his hands rested on either side of her stomach. His face was pressed into her neck. Each time he breathed she felt a slight tickling feeling. She wasn't surprised he was still asleep. They had stayed up until almost dawn eagerly discussing what they would do once they were home again. Jack claimed what he wanted most was to draw her in their house, just once, while she was still pregnant.

Rose laughed. "Why that? And couldn't you do that here? Couldn't you just draw me as I am and then fill in the background as our house instead of this one?" He shook his head. "Wouldn't be the same."

"Why do I have to still be pregnant?"

"Well…" He gently slid a hand over her swollen belly. A smile spread across his face as he felt a gentle kick beneath his palm. "She knows we're talking about her," Rose said, returning his smile. "And I'll bet she knows this isn't her home," Jack said. He brought his face down so it was just inches away from the top of Rose's belly. "You know, don't you?" He nodded. "That's what I thought." Rose couldn't help but giggle; he had been talking to the baby since the start of her pregnancy, and as her stomach grew so did the scope of his conversations. "Jack, she wouldn't be able to speak yet even if she had been born already."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He straightened his body. "But I still want to draw you like this at home."

"You never did tell me why."

"I can't really explain it. I—well, this wasn't how I wanted any of this to happen," he said, moving closer to her. She closed the gap between them and laid her head on his shoulder. He pulled the bedcovers up over their legs. "When we had a baby I wanted it to be…you weren't supposed to be going through all of this. We were supposed to be safe at home the whole time."

"It's not your fault," she said softly. "You didn't know this was going to happen. Any of it. We've been over this, Jack." He sighed. "I know. I just…" She cupped his chin and turned his head so he was facing her. "I love you. I don't want to hear anything like that from you again." He laid one of his hands over hers. "This is becoming a familiar conversation."

"A redundant conversation if you ask me."

He chuckled quietly. "I need to get over it, huh?"

"That's one way to put it."

He lightly stroked her hand with his thumb. "I love you too." She tilted her head up and kissed him. "We're going home," she said. "In a few days we'll be getting on a boat and going home. And you can draw me as much as you want," she added. "However you want." He grinned mischievously as his hands slipped around her waist. "However I want, huh?"

"Artist's preference," she said haughtily. "I can't be bothered to decide such things." He flattened his hands against her back and gently began to lower her down. "Whatever you say miss." He placed a soft kiss on her throat. "Anything for you miss." His lips moved up to her jaw and then to her mouth. She kissed him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Oh, so you do know what you want after all miss," he teased. She slid down, pulling him with her. "It would appear so."

Rose smiled at the memory of what came next. They had only made love a few times since her stomach had begun swelling. Jack would almost always make sure they stopped after things went so far. "What's wrong?" she had asked the first time. "Nothing," he said. "We just—we can't." Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why not?" A cold fear gripped her heart. "Do you not want me—"

"I do!" He pressed her closer and kissed her deeply. "I want you so much, Rose." She moaned and began tugging at his shirt. "But we can't," he insisted, taking hold of her hands. "What if it hurt the baby?"

"It won't," she said. "The only way it would hurt her is if you did something to hurt _me_." But he had insisted they wait until after the baby was born anyway. It was a miracle they had even been able to create a child, and he would be damned if something happened to it because he couldn't control himself.

Rose laid her hands on his and snuggled closer to him. He sighed happily. Nuzzling her neck, he said, "You ever gonna open your eyes?"

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough." He kissed her cheek. "That wasn't fair seducing me like that last night."

"I don't remember hearing any complaints. In fact, I remember you being quite pleased by how things turned out."

"I—" His reply was cut off by a soft knock on the bedroom door. "Jack?" Stella called. "Rose? Are you awake yet?"

"We're awake, darling," Rose called back. "We'll be out in a moment." She slowly began pulling herself into a sitting position. "Thank you," she said as Jack steadied her. He hopped off the bed. "Let me," he said, bending down and laying one hand on her back and taking one of her hands with the others. She didn't resist as he gently pulled her to her feet. "There," he said with a smile. She kissed the tip of his nose. "What would I do without you?"

"Well, you might not be pregnant so you might not need help getting out of bed," he joked. She shoved him playfully. "I thought you didn't have anything to do with this?"

"I never said I didn't help at all, just that my part was nothing compared to yours."

She slid a hand up his bare chest. "I think your part was also a bit more fun than mine," she said with a soft laugh. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "I should do something for you then."

"Oh really?" Her tone was light, but her heart was racing. His fingertips were slowly stroking her back. She stifled a sigh as he pulled her closer. "Uh-huh. Something for just you." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Later, though," he added. "You did that on purpose!" she cried. She tried to sound angry, but a laugh escaped despite her best efforts. "You—you—"

"Seduced you?"

"Oh, this is not the same!" She tried to stop herself, but she laughed again. "If you want to say I seduced you fine! But at least _I _didn't stop in the middle!"

…..

"I wish we could have given her more," Jack said. He stood in front of the bedroom window, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The streets were deserted, and a light snow was falling. He gave a silent prayer of thanks for their warm apartment.

"We gave her what we could," Rose said from across the room. She was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. "She knows that. She doesn't expect extravagance from us."

"Yeah, I know, and I don't want her to grow up thinking money and possessions are what matters in life, but…" He shrugged. "It just doesn't seem fair." She laid down the brush and crossed the room. "None of this is fair," she said, wrapping an arm around his hips. "How many times have we said that?"

"I've lost count."

"She loved what we gave her," Rose added. Jack smiled. "She did, didn't she?" Rose nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. "I just wish I could have gotten something for you," she said with a sigh. "How much longer until the baby is born?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Only about two more months, honey. You can do it. And speaking of getting someone a present—" He quickly crossed the room and dropped to his knees next to their bed.

"What are you—" She gasped as he pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. "You didn't!" He nodded and grinned brightly. He hopped to his feet. "For you," he said, holding the package out to her. "But when?" she asked in a dazed voice. "When did you…Yesterday! That's what you were doing!" His grin widened. "Never mind about that right now. Open it."

She tore open the paper. "Jack! It—it's…."

"Do you not like it?" he asked anxiously.

"It's beautiful." She carefully removed the rest of the paper and turned the box over in her hands. It was clearly handmade. The detail work alone was breathtaking. She didn't know very much about wood, but she could tell it was of a high quality. There was a painting of a red rose on the top; its stem was wound around a drawing pencil. "You painted this, didn't you?" She traced the rose's petals with her fingertip. "I can tell you did."

"It opens," he said softy.

"There's more?"

He nodded. "Lift the lid."

As she opened the box a familiar tune began to play. Tears sprang into her eyes. "Jack, how did you find this?" He gently took the box from her hands and set it on the table next to the bed. "That's a story for another time. I believe I promised you something earlier today."


	131. Chapter 131

Three days later they boarded a ship bound for New York called _The Colossus_. Rose didn't say it, but Jack knew she was nervous about sailing in the middle of winter. The possibility of encountering an iceberg was even higher this time. She hesitated for a second as they stepped off the gangplank. A look of terror crossed her face and she laid a hand on her stomach. Jack squeezed her hand. "It's okay," he said softly. "Everything's gonna be fine." She took a deep breath. "Everything is going to be fine."

…..

Stella could only stare at the room she found herself in; it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She slowly turned around. "Wow," she whispered. "It's pretty impressive, isn't it?" Jack said. She looked up at him and was shocked to discover he looked slightly awestruck. "Yeah, it is," she said. "It's even better than the room we had before."

"That's because the British military's paying for this one," he joked. She was about to reply when Rose appeared in the doorway that separated the sitting room from their bedroom. "Jack, could you come in here for a moment?" she said. He nodded. "Why don't you go unpack?" he suggested to Stella, motioning toward her door with his head.

"Something wrong?" he asked once the bedroom door was safely closed. Her face was hidden by a wall of fiery hair; her hands were curled protectively around her stomach. "Rose?" He took a step toward her, holding out his hands. "Is it the—"

"No," she said quickly. "She's fine." He gently took hold of her elbows. "What's wrong then?" She didn't answer. "Is it the ship? Are you still afraid?"

"That's part of it," she said quietly.

"What's the rest of it?" He moved his hands up to her face. "Rose honey, you know there's nothing you can't tell me."

Her voice dropped down to a whisper. "I'm scared and not just about the ship." She gazed up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Her words came out in a rush. "Jack, we can't go on like this. We've been too lucky. Something's going to happen. I know it. It's too much. It—"

"Sshh." He wrapped his arms around her. "You don't have anything to worry about. Everything's going to be fine." He was surprised by how tightly she hugged him; she twisted the back of his shirt in her hands as if something were about to drag her away at any moment. "Rose, listen to me," he said, "there is nothing to be afraid of. I won't let anything happen to us." She just clung to him even more. A moment later he realized the moisture he felt soaking through his shirt was tears. "Aww, honey," he sighed, pressing his cheek against her hair. He slowly rocked back and forth. "Please don't cry. Please, Rose, whatever it is I'll take care of it, okay? I'll take care of us."

"What if you can't?" she asked tearfully, her voice muffled by his chest. "What if neither of us can?" She knew she sounded hysterical, but she couldn't help it. All morning she had walked with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Around the end of breakfast she had realized it was dread she was feeling, and there, with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands—how Jack had found the cocoa she didn't know and when she asked he just grinned—she thought, _Something terrible is about to happen. _She shivered despite the steaming mug in her hands.

"Rose?" Jack paused, a forkful eggs halfway to his mouth. "You okay?" She nodded. Forcing herself to smile she said, "I'm fine." He didn't ask again, but she felt his eyes on her for the rest of the meal.

And now, wrapped in his embrace, the feeling was stronger than ever. She began to shake. She tried to stop, but it was as if she no longer had control over her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the tears would stop coming. The front of his shirt was soaked through; it scratched against her cheek, as if her tears had transformed the soft cotton into burlap. Dimly she heard his voice. He was saying her name, trying to reassure her. _You can't stop this. I can't either. _

"Rose." He gently lifted her head. He felt as though his heart was being squeezed as he looked down into her tear streaked face. "Oh Rose." He kissed her softly. "What's scared you, honey?" He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "You've been like this all day. I've seen it in your face since breakfast. Why are you so afraid something's gonna happen to us?"

"I don't know," she said. "I—I can't explain it. I just have this feeling. It—We've been too lucky. Too many good things have happened to us. It can't last."

"But it hasn't all been good. Remember?"

"I know, but we keep overcoming what gets thrown at us."

"And what makes you think we can't overcome some more?"

"I don't know…" She shook her head. "I just…." She laid her head against his chest. He slowly rocked them back and forth. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "If something happens we'll deal with it. We'll make it through just like we always do."

That night Jack lay awake long after Rose fell asleep. They were facing each other, his muscular stomach pressed against her swollen one. Sometimes he thought he could feel the baby moving, but if she was Rose never noticed. She went right on sleeping as though nothing were happening. But she was probably used to it, he reasoned. He lightly stroked her arm with his thumb. Her eyelids fluttered. "Nothin to see," he whispered. "Stay asleep." She nodded. "Mmmhmm…" Her lips curled into a smile.

It was the first time he'd seen her smile all day he realized. His heart sank. He hadn't been able to get their conversation or her tears out of his mind; for the rest of the day he'd watched her closely, hoping to discover what was upsetting her. A feeling, she'd said. But what had caused the feeling? He sighed. _We just need to stop getting on boats. _

The rest of the trip wasn't much better than that first day. Rose tried to be cheerful, but Jack knew when her smile was fake. He could see the fear in her eyes even when she was trying to hide it. It made him sick knowing she was terrified and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Stella saw it all but didn't say anything. What would have been the point? If Rose was trying to hide something from Jack then she was most definitely trying to hide something from her. Jack did his best to act as though everything was normal. He took her for walks on the deck while Rose rested. The only time Rose seemed happy, she noticed, were when he tried to show her how to draw. Her eyes always lit up when she watched their lessons, and so even though Stella knew she would never be good at art—and so did Jack, for that matter—they kept doing them.

They docked in New York on January 5th and were immediately shuttled into a cab and whisked away to the train station. "Your mother's an efficient woman," Jack remarked as they settled onto the train. Rose grinned slightly. "She really is." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're home," he said. "You don't have to worry about anything anymore."

"We're almost home," she corrected him.

"Fine," he said, chuckling. "We're _almost_ home, and after we're finished visiting your mother we'll be all the way home." Her grin widened. For the first time in days the dread that gripped her heart loosened. "We'll be home."


	132. Chapter 132

**AN: Thanks for the reviews everyone!**

The sun was just beginning to set when they finally arrived in Philadelphia. Rose's back ached; all she wanted was a warm bath and a soft bed. Her feet were swollen, and walking was difficult even in her slipper-like shoes. She leaned against Jack for support as they descended from the train and climbed into a waiting taxi. Never before had Jack been so grateful there was someone being paid to handle their luggage. He was too exhausted to even give a halfhearted protest when the driver referred to him as "sir." Stella's head bobbed up and down as they drove. She clutched her book to her chest as though it were a teddy bear or a doll.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the car stopped in front of a house Jack and Rose recognized as Ruth and Thomas'. "We made it," Rose said wearily. Jack squeezed her hand. "Still scared?" Rose didn't know how to tell him she was too tired to be scared; the stress of the last few days coupled with her advanced pregnancy had eaten away most of her strength. So she settled for a simple, "No." He smiled and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Good, cause there's nothin to be scared of."

They trudged up the front steps. "It's bigger than I remember," Rose said. She let out a short laugh. "Or am I just that tired?" Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe both?" he suggested. She answered with a long yawn. This triggered a yawn from Stella. She swayed slightly and held out a hand to steady herself; her palm landed on Jack's hip. He glanced down at her, his mouth curling into a small smile. "It's almost over," he said encouragingly. She just nodded. He reached out to ring the bell, but the door flew open before he could finish.

"Rose!" Ruth cried, her hands flying to her mouth. Rose managed a weak smile. "Mother." Ruth's gaze shifted. "Jack!" She took a step toward them and held out her hands. For a moment the three of them just stared at each other; no-one was sure what to do next. Ruth was showing more affection than any of them had ever seen. Her mind suddenly alert, Stella regarded her with curiosity. _She doesn't even realize I'm here,_ she thought.

Finally Ruth took a step back and motioned for them to come inside. "It's freezing," she said briskly. "What are you thinking of, just standing out there?" She shot Jack a look. "Why didn't you ring the bell?" He chuckled softly. "I'm glad to see you too."

Someone carried their luggage upstairs while Ruth led them through the front hall and into the sitting room. It was exactly as Jack and Rose remembered it, except there were even more paintings this time. Jack's eyes widened; like Stella, he was suddenly alert. "Wow," he whispered. "Someone's collecting you like this," Rose said. "I doubt that," he said, letting his gaze wander around the room. His talent was nothing compared to the geniuses on display all around them. _I could never do that,_ he thought with a shake of his head. It had been almost three years since his success as an artist had begun, and there hadn't once been a time since when his work wasn't selling or showing somewhere—in short, when his art hadn't been bringing in money. Lots of money. More money than he was comfortable thinking about sometimes. And yet he still woke up everyday expecting it to all be over, expecting the people who praised his work to realize they had been wrong all along.

"Well, I don't," Rose said in a tone that didn't allow any room for contradiction. He squeezed her shoulder. Her unwavering belief in him was sometimes more baffling than his new status in the world.

"You haven't had dinner, I presume?" Ruth said. Rose shook her head. "No," Jack said. Stella let out a loud yawn. Jack chuckled. "I think some of us would rather go on to bed," he said. Ruth looked at Stella as if she were seeing her for the first time. "Yes," she said, "that's quite understandable." Her eyes shifted back to Jack and Rose. "I'll have something sent up to you."

…

Rose slowly lowered herself into the tub. The water threatened to spill over the sides of the tub, but she didn't care. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the tub. Sighing happily she sank down until the water covered everything but her head. She was too distracted by how good the warm water felt on her aching muscles to hear Jack come in. "R—" he began but stopped when he saw her. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and leaned against the doorway. _She's so beautiful,_ he thought.

Despite the heat of the water goosebumps suddenly covered her arms. _Is he—_"How long are you going to stand there and watch me?" she asked without opening her eyes. "How long are you going to be the most beautiful woman in the world?" he replied. "I'm hardly that," she said, opening her eyes and shooting him a look. "Are to me," he said simply. "Feel any better?" he asked. She nodded. "So much better." He smiled slightly. "Good." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss. "There's food when you're ready for it."

Jack left the door cracked just in case she needed something. He kicked off his shoes. His shirt and pants quickly followed. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't stand the thought of being in those clothes for another second. It was probably all the traveling he'd done in them, or maybe it was the memories connected with them, all the stress and fear. He glanced at the bathroom door. Was she still afraid? _Would she tell me?_ he wondered. _If I ask will I just bring it back?_ He grabbed a roll off the tray one of the maids had brought up and hopped onto the bed. He couldn't help but smile as his body bounced up and down. _We'll get through it,_ he told himself. _Whatever's coming. _

He tore a bite of the roll. As he chewed he thought about the future. It would only be a few weeks until the baby arrived. His heart skipped a beat. He swallowed the rest of the roll without tasting it. "Our baby," he murmured.

He had yet to move when Rose came in a few minutes later. "The towels aren't big enough for me," she grumbled, her eyes on the towel she was fighting to secure around her body. She grunted in frustration and settled for holding it together with her hand. _I'm not going to be naked very long anyway._

"Jack?" she said. He didn't answer. He didn't even seem to have heard her. "Jack?" she said again, laying a hand on his arm. He jumped. "Rose!" he exclaimed, sucking in his breath. She sat down next to him. "Are you alright?" she asked, making no effort to hide her concern. "I'm fine," he said. He took both her hands in his. "I'm wonderful," he said. She watched, puzzled, as he kissed her fingertips. He looked into her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too. Are you sure you're alright? You were just sitting here staring—"

"I was thinking," he said slowly. "About what things'll be like when the baby comes." He laced his fingers through hers. He lightly stroked her palms with his thumbs. "And about how amazing it's gonna be," he added.

"You aren't scared?" she said.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, "but this isn't anything we can't handle." A thought occurred to him. "Is that what's been bothering you?" he asked. "You're scared about the baby?"

"I—" _No,_ she wanted to say. _I'm scared—I'm terrified because I can't get over this feeling that something awful is about to happen to us, and I know it sounds crazy but I can't help it. _But she knew she couldn't say that, so instead she said, "I think that's it." And it wasn't a complete lie. She _was_ nervous about what would happen once the baby was born; after all, talking about having a baby of their own was very different from actually having one. She didn't even want to think about the birthing process. All she knew was it hurt. A lot. She had asked her mother about it in one of her letters, but she had refused to tell her anything. She had tried to tell herself it wouldn't be so bad. Hadn't she always heard how awful "wifely duties" were? But deep down she knew there was a big difference between making love with Jack and the physical act of bringing a child into the world.

"You need to eat something," he said. "Am I to assume this is a formal dinner?" she said, eying his scantily clad body. Something in her look made his cheeks burn. "Forgive me, miss," he said. She laughed. "I think you should dress this way more often." His jaw dropped in mock horror. "Mrs. Dawson!" he cried, dropping her hands. He jumped to his feet. "Why, I—I just don't know what I'm going to do with you!"

She grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him back onto the bed. "You're going to eat with me," she said, handing him one of the plates. "And then you're going to crawl into this bed that I can only hope is as comfortable as it was expensive, and you're going to hold me."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

He placed a soft kiss on her lips. "How'd you know what I wanted to do?"


	133. Chapter 133

**AN: Hope you all like it! Review please!**

Rose wanted to go home after two days, but Jack insisted they stay a little longer. "When did you become such good friends with my mother?" she asked. "Stay still," he said, keeping his eyes on the drawing unfolding in front of him. "And we're not good friends," he added. "I just think it would be good for you to spend some more time with her is all. She did get us out of France."

Rose sighed. She knew he was right, and yet… "I just want to go home," she said wearily. "I just want to sit in my favorite chair next to the fireplace and fall asleep in our bed and wake up to you cooking breakfast."

"I want that too. But…."

"But what? Wouldn't you rather be drawing me at home? Didn't you say that?"

"Yeah, I said that," he admitted. "But we can't just run off. Not after what she did for us." _After she did what I couldn't do,_ he added silently. Ruth had tried several times to get him alone since their first night there, and though he knew he was just delaying the inevitable that didn't stop him from doing everything he could to evade her grasp. What Ruth wanted she got, one way or another, and if what she wanted was to turn those pale green eyes of steel on him and demand to know why he hadn't taken better care of Rose there wasn't much he could do about it. "Listen," he said, "we'll stay a few more days, and then we'll go home. Alright?"

Rose broke into a smile. "Alright."

"Okay. Now just stay still for a few more minutes.

The inevitable that Jack was doing his best to put off caught up with him not an hour after he finished his drawing of Rose. She was in their room taking a nap, and he was taking a walk around the garden when it happened. His shoulders were hunched, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. It was a bitterly cold day, but he didn't mind. Compared to the water in the North Atlantic the wind whipping his hair back was almost warm. He was just about to start his second lap around the garden when—

"Jack? May I speak with you?"

He spun around. Ruth stood next to the door leading back into the house. "Sure," he said. He motioned toward the house. "Do you want—" She shook her head. "No, let's just walk out here." Jack nodded slowly. "Alright."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before he finally said, "I know what this is about." She regarded him with curiosity. "Do you?"

"It's about what's been going on. What I did—really it's what I didn't do."

"That's part of it," she said slowly.

Jack stared at the ground. "I know I failed her." His throat tightened. "I should never have let…" He shook his head. "I should have taken better care of her." He spoke in a tone Ruth had never heard him use before, a tone that she couldn't help but think didn't sound right coming from him. This wasn't the Jack she knew at all. Where was the annoyingly cheerful and charming man she had come to know and almost love? "It—it wasn't your fault," she said haltingly. "You couldn't have predicted half the world would plunge into madness overnight."

He stared at her; it took everything he had to keep his mouth from hanging open. "Are you saying you don't blame me for what happened?"

"I don't blame you for—" _The war,_ she had planned to say. _I don't blame you for the war. What I do blame you for is not having the sense to keep up with politics. What kind of man doesn't know about such things? _But she couldn't bring herself to say that. It was clear that he was blaming himself more than she ever could. "Anything," she said. "I don't blame you at all."

"I…I don't know what to say. Why not? I mean, I—"

"Let's just leave it be, Jack."

His eyes widened. Had she just called him by name twice in one conversation? "Alright," he said. "I can do that."

"Good. Now, there's something else we need to discuss," she said briskly. "Have you given any thought to when you're going home?"

"Soon. Rose's anxious to get back. We all are, really."

"I thought you'd say that."

"It isn't that we don't—" he began, but she quickly cut him off. "I understand how you feel, but have you considered staying here until Rose is in a condition better suited for traveling?"

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. First she absolved him of blame and now this? "You really want us to stay? I mean, you wouldn't mind?" As he said spoke he realized he agreed with her. With Rose so close to the end of her pregnancy the last thing she needed was to spend 10 hours on a train.

Ruth shot him a mildly chastising look. "If I minded I wouldn't have brought it up." He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"So it's settled? You're staying?"

"I didn't say that. I have to talk to Rose first."

She sighed. "I knew you were going to say that. There _is_ a reason why I'm talking to you alone. You are aware that you are the husband in this marriage?" He stopped in his tracks. "Is that what I am?" he asked with mock incredulity. Had she been a different sort of person Ruth would have rolled her eyes. "But of course you never act like one," she said. "I just don't understand you."

…..

"What if something went wrong? What if you needed a doctor?"

"There's a doctor at home," Rose said. "Why wouldn't he be there already?"

"What if you needed a better doctor?" Before she could reply he added, "What if something happened? What if—" The words stuck in his throat. "What if something went wrong?" It was a possibility neither of them had ever brought up though they had each thought about it at one point or another, and in fact, since their arrival in America Rose had been thinking about it more than ever. She had managed to hide it from Jack, but the dread she felt during their voyage home was back in full force. "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands. "We'll stay."

"We don't have to." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "If you won't be happy here we can go. We can go right now if that's what you want." She shook her head. "You're right. We should stay." She sighed. "I just miss our home. All that time we spent traipsing around the country I never cared we didn't have one, but now…" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I miss it too," he said. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He began to gently rub her back. "That feels nice," she said. Her voice was muffled by his chest. "Is there anything you can't do with your hands?"

He kissed the top of her head. "There's nothing they can't do for you."

…

Rose expected the next few weeks to be tense, but she was pleasantly surprised to discover her mother seemed to be trying harder than ever to refrain from criticizing or questioning her thoughts and decisions. She and Jack were getting along better than Rose had ever dared hope they would, but Ruth's indifference to Stella kept her from enjoying it. She never said anything outright about her, but Rose could tell she would have preferred if she wasn't around at all. Since she couldn't have that Ruth did her best to simply ignore her. At first Rose tried to convince herself it was just because she was a child—after all, hadn't her mother been distant with her when she was a child herself?—but she knew it was more than that.

"Rose, don't you think you should be resting?" Ruth said. "Surely all of this—" She made a vague gesture toward the books and papers spread out on the table. "—can't be good for you."

"Nonsense," Rose said, grabbing a book off the stack next to her. She flipped it open and began searching for a page. "Why would it be bad for me? The doctor said I'm supposed to stay off my feet and not do anything strenuous. Well, I'm off my feet and this isn't strenuous."

"Mental exertion can be just as detrimental to your health as physical exertion," Ruth said. "And there's no reason why _you_ have to do this. There are plenty of fine schools you could send her to."

Stella's shoulders tensed; she stopped writing mid-word. _Schools that are far away,_ she thought. She clenched her fist around her pencil.

"Mother, there's no reason to send her to school. We won't be here long enough for her to finish the term." Rose looked over at Stella. "Unless you want to go?" Stella shook her head quickly. "No." Her tone was firm, but her eyes were pleading. "You don't have to then," Rose said. Ruth sighed. "Well, at least find someone else to teach her here. She needs a real tutor."

"Oh, that would just be a waste of money," Rose said, "when I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

Ruth pursed her lips. _Maybe Jack—_No. She knew exactly what he would say. Talking to him would be a waste of time. She pushed back her chair and stood up. "Don't let her tire you out completely," she said, exasperated.

When she was gone, Stella asked quietly, "Is teaching me really going to—"

"No," Rose said. "It isn't hurting me at all. Don't listen to her." Stella nodded. "I won't." But a part of her wasn't convinced. Hadn't they been forced to stay because the trip home might be too much for Rose? What if she was weaker than she realized? All Stella knew about her condition was what she could see and that at the end a baby would somehow be produced. She'd tried asking again how exactly that worked. She'd even asked Jack and Rose separately in hopes that they would be more willing to spill the secret if the other wasn't there, but they'd both kept silent. Except for the sound Jack made when he'd choked on his water.


	134. Chapter 134

_February 6__th__, 1915_

That morning when Rose woke up it was to a sharp pain. She winced and grabbed her stomach. Jack raised his head. "You okay?" he asked sleepily. "I'm fine," she said, forcing herself to smile. He sat up, suddenly awake. "You sure?" She nodded. "I'm fine," she said again, more firmly this time. She pulled herself into a sitting position. "I'm just ready to stop being pregnant."

"I know you are," he said, rubbing her back. "It'll be over soon. Didn't the doctor say it could be any day now?" Rose climbed out of the bed; she smiled as her feet landed on thick, soft carpet. "That's what he said." She dug her toes into the carpet and let her body relax. The pain was gone.

But it came back an hour later. She had a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth when it happened. She dropped the fork, oblivious to the concerned looks she was receiving, hunched forward, and grabbed her stomach with both hands. She closed her eyes. _Just breathe. _When she opened them again everyone was staring at her. Jack was on his feet, his hands held out, ready to scoop her up and carry her away. Her mother's eyes were wide, her mouth pinched together to hold in a gasp. Stella clutched her fork so tightly her knuckles were white. Thomas just looked uncomfortable. One of the kitchen girls stood frozen between the door and the table, a pitcher of milk in hand.

"I'm fine," Rose said. She laughed weakly. "Why are you all staring at me?" Jack sat back down. He leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. Taking her hands in his, he said, "Honey, I know you said you were okay, but—"

"But nothing. I'm fine." She slipped her hands out of his. Her gaze moved around the room. "I am," she insisted. Jack opened his mouth, the beginning of an argument on the tip of his tongue, but he closed it again without saying anything. He had a pretty good idea of what was happening—or starting to happen—but Rose seemed determined to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"Well, set the milk down!" Ruth ordered, suddenly finding her voice. The girl hastily set the pitcher in the middle of the table. A few drops splashed onto the tablecloth, but Ruth was too flustered to scold her. She gave a quick curtsy and hurried from the room. The rest of breakfast was eaten in a tense silence save for Rose's half hearted attempts to make conversation.

…..

"We don't have to go." Jack wrapped his arms around Rose from behind. "We could just stay here." Rose closed her eyes and leaned against him. It felt so good to have someone else holding up her aching body. "No," she said. "We promised we would go." He pressed his cheek against her hair. "Yeah, but she'll understand."

"I know, but I don't want to do that to her," she said. "And besides, I want to go too. We've been planning this for a week." Although, she had to admit even if only to herself, a week earlier when the plan to take Stella to the theatre had been made she hadn't had stabbing pains shooting through her abdomen every 30 minutes. _You should just tell him you're in pain and stay home. ._ She grit her teeth to hold back a groan as yet another wave of pain washed over her._ Don't you think this might be something you should tell him about? They started out an hour apart and now they're getting closer and closer together. _

But even if she did there wasn't anything he could about it, she reasoned. After all, _she_ wasn't even sure she knew what was happening, though she had a strong feeling it had something to do with the baby. _It couldn't be…could it? _Her heart skipped a beat. Was this how it began? _What else could it be? Tell him!_

"Jack, I don't…" She paused, unsure of what to say next. "I…" She sighed. "Will you help me go back upstairs?" He answered by gently scooping her up. "You don't have to—" She laughed. "Oh, go ahead and carry me," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "I didn't intend to do anything else," he said.

…

"I'll be right back," he said as he laid a blanket over her. "Where are you going?" Her tone held more fear than she would have liked. _He isn't leaving you!_ she thought. "I'm going to call the doctor." He placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I'll be back in two minutes. You can count the seconds if you don't believe me."

..

"Okay," Jack said. "So you'll be here sometime in the next half hour? Uh-huh. Thanks." He let out a heavy sigh as he set the phone back in its cradle. The doctor could have gotten there at dawn that morning and he still wouldn't have made it fast enough as far as Jack was concerned. He pushed the hair from his eyes. _Why did she wait so long to tell me?_

"Jack?"

He spun around, startled by the sound of Stella's voice. "Hey, Stella Maris," he said, breaking into what he hoped was a convincing grin. But Stella was having none of it. "Is she okay?" Jack tried to feign confusion. "Who?"

"Jack, please just tell me," she said pleadingly. "She's fine," he said. "I mean it," he added. "She just has to stay in bed for a few hours." She gazed up at him, her dark eyes brimming with unasked questions. Her small face was tense. "There's nothin to be afraid of," he assured her, dropping to his knees and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't lie to you." She nodded. "I believe you."

"Okay. Do you know where Rose's mother is?" She nodded again. "Can you go tell her something for me?"

…

Ruth would later say she reacted to everything that happened that day with the utmost calmness and decorum, but when Stella burst into the sitting room where she was meeting with one of her women's philanthropy organizations she let out a short scream and nearly dropped a cup of tea on her lap. The other women's reactions ranged from the mild to the extreme, from the gasps of a few to the choking on a finger sandwich of one.

"The baby's coming," Stella cried before any of them could recover their voices. Her gaze centered on Ruth. "Jack needs you." She nodded dumbly. "Tell him I'm coming," she said. And just as quickly as she came, Stella was gone, slamming the door behind her. One of the women winced at the sound. _Where does a child like that come from?_ she wondered.

Ruth set her teacup on its saucer. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. "Please, finish the meeting without me."

_Jack Dawson, you just wait until I get upstairs,_ she thought as she hurried from the room.

…..

As the sun rose on February 7th, 1915 Jack sat down next to Rose on the bed, a tiny baby girl in cradled in his arms. "Is she—is she alright?" Rose asked anxiously, holding out her arms. Jack smiled. "She's perfect." Rose's eyes lit up as she carefully accepted the fragile bundle. "She_ is_ perfect."

"You never told me what you wanna call her."

"Monica."

"What about her middle name?"

"What do you want it to be?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Rosebud."

"I like it." She smiled down at the baby. "Monica Rosebud Dawson."


	135. Chapter 135

In the two hours since her birth Monica hadn't been put down once. As soon as Rose felt her eyes getting heavy she handed her back to Jack, who took her with trembling hands. "I can't get over how small she is," he said. "Neither can I," Rose said sleepily. "You should rest," he said, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She nodded, her eyes already closed. "You're right..."

Since then he had ignored countless offers to take her, most of which came from Ruth's never ending army of household staff. It seemed like a new maid would appear every few minutes with an insatiable urge to carry her off. "No, I'm fine," he said to the latest one, who stared at him with bewildered eyes.

"But sir-"

"No, no, no," he said quickly. "You don't hafta—just call me Jack, okay?" She nodded, suddenly remembering everything she had heard about him from the rest of the staff. "Alright...Jack. I can take her for you."

"Oh no. I couldn't do that. She should be with her family right now."

"But you're her _father_."

"Yeah." A grin spread across his face. "I'm her father."

"Just let me know if you change your mind," she said. She gave a quick curtsy and walked away. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, "You don't have to do that either," but he knew it would be no use. "She thinks I'm crazy," he said, looking down at Monica. "You don't think that do you?" Her bright blue eyes—the same color as his—gazed up at him. "That's what I thought." He brushed his lips across the top of her head which was already covered in soft red hair. "I love you too."

…..

"Is that her?" Stella was out of her chair and halfway across the room before Ruth even had a chance to signal her disapproval with a sound. "Yeah, this is her," Jack said proudly. He bent down. Stella's eyes widened. "She's so tiny," she whispered. He chuckled. "That's what Rose and me said."

"And she has hair! Rose's hair," she added. "And your eyes."

"She coulda done without those, dontcha think?"

Stella rolled her eyes. "And Rose'll say that about the hair." Jack laughed. "Well, she'd be wrong." He brushed a fingertip across Monica's cheek. "Wouldn't she?"

Ruth watched from the other side of the room, doing her best to not seem out of place, and yet at the same time remain inconspicuous. Part of her was afraid Jack would completely ignore her, but another part was afraid he wouldn't. _Of course he's carrying that child around,_ she thought, with a quick shake of her head. _Why wouldn't he be?_ And if he was holding her, he would expect her to, wouldn't he? _I don't even remember—Oh dear God is he handing her to that child?_ And that was the point when Ruth forgot her fear and threw herself into the situation. After all, it was one thing for Jack to carry her around the house for no apparent reason, but it was quite another to let a mere child do it. "Jack, don't you think it would be best if an adult was holding her?"

He looked up, surprised by the sound of her voice. The truth was he hadn't been handing Stella the baby, just adjusting the way he held her so she could see her better. "You're right," he said. "Do you want to?"

"I—Oh, no, I couldn't," she said quickly, her hands fluttering nervously as she spoke. "She seems quite happy with you."

"She seems quite happy with everything," he said. "Hasn't cried once." He smiled down at her. "Have you?" He wasn't exaggerating. From the time the doctor handed her to him all she had done was stare—in wonder, he believed—at the world around her. "You can," he said, turning his gaze back to Ruth. "If you want."

_If you want. He would have to put the burden of deciding on me. _She took a few tentative steps forward. Her face softened. "She—" _She's a beautiful child. _But she couldn't bring herself to actually say it out loud. It was true, but that didn't make it an appropriate thing to say. So instead she said, "You're holding her wrong."

"I am?" Jack looked from Monica, who didn't seem bothered in the least by the way he was holding her, to Ruth, who was holding her arms out, waving her right hand impatiently. "Just give her to me for a moment," she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

"Thought you couldn't hold her?" Jack said after the baby was safely settled in Ruth's arms. "I shouldn't be, but someone had to help you. You—" But the rest of her words were drowned out by the sound of Monica's wails. Ruth stared at Jack with terror filled eyes. "Just give her back," he said, reaching out to take her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jack asked. Monica gazed up at him, all signs of distress gone. "Oh, that's how it is, huh?" She answered by yawning.

For the next few hours Jack wandered around the house, a sleeping Monica cradled in his arms. Her tiny head rested against his chest, just above his heart. Just the way Rose's head always did. He stopped in front of the floor length windows that looked out onto the garden. "It's not very pretty out there right now," he said softly. "And it's not very warm either. But when it is I'm gonna take you to see it. I taught your mother to climb that tree over there in the middle. It was the first tree she ever climbed." He smiled as the memory began to play in his mind. "She was terrified, kept making me promise she wouldn't fall. I even had to carry her down on my back."

"I could have fallen."

Jack's head whipped around. His smile widened. "Rose!" She chuckled quietly. "Who else would it be?"

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She avoided his eyes. "Probably."

"What's wrong?"

"I kept waking up. It sounds crazy, I know. I'm exhausted. I'm so exhausted it hurts, but…" She shrugged. "Here I am."

…..

"Better?"

Rose snuggled closer to him. "Perfect." Gently, he tilted her head up and kissed her. "You're perfect."

"You are."

"Our baby's perfect."

She smiled. "She is, isn't she?" She craned her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Monica over the top of her bassinet. "She's fine," he said, though secretly he wanted to get up and check himself. "She's fine," Rose said, laying her head back down. She let her eyes fall closed. "And we'll make sure she stays that way," he said. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I won't let anything happen to her. Or you. Or Stella. I won't let anything get near my family again."


	136. Chapter 136

Three days later they boarded a train to Georgia. At first Jack wanted to stay a little longer, for both Rose and Monica's sakes, after all, wasn't it awfully soon for either of them to be traveling? But after watching the tension between Rose and Ruth mount to almost unbearable levels after only a day and a half, he was forced to admit the best thing would be to go home. As soon as possible.

Ruth took the news well. She half-heartedly protested, but they all knew she was glad to have them out of her hair. Deep down she loved them, or rather she loved Rose and therefore had a growing affection for Monica that seemed to mostly consist of clucking her tongue disapprovingly whenever Jack or Rose said anything about how they planned to bring her up. However, that didn't mean she wanted them to stay.

They left at 6 a.m., and by 8 p.m. they were walking through their front door. "Finally!" Rose cried, her voice brimming with joy. She didn't even notice the temperature inside the house was even colder than the temperature outside. Jack, on the other hand, did notice. "Why don't you go upstairs?" he suggested. "Get in bed. It'll be warmer that way." He glanced down at Stella. "You too."

Once they were gone he quickly set about warming the house. He lit a fire in each of the downstairs rooms, even ones they didn't use, and left all the doors open so the heat could circulate.

"Rose," he said, pushing their bedroom door open with his foot. His arms were full of wood. "Do—" He stopped short. Rose lay in the middle of their bed, buried under a pile of blankets. Stella was next to her, snuggled against her side. Monica was on the other side of Rose, sleeping in a small space all her own Rose had made out of blankets. "What's wrong, Jack?" Rose said.

"Nothing." His heart felt like it might burst. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's right."

Slowly they settled into a routine that was similar to, but not quite their old one. After a few days Stella went back to school, dragging her feet the whole way. "It's not that bad," Jack said, trying to sound encouraging.

"Yeah, I guess it's better than not getting to go," she said. He sensed there was more to her statement than just a general understanding that getting an education is better than not getting one, but he didn't press her for details. He was ashamed to admit it, but part of him didn't want to know. He knew enough of what her life had been like before she came to them, and as far as he was concerned, that was enough. In fact, he would have been happy if they could all somehow forget she had ever not been theirs.

It took them a little while to adjust to life with a baby, but after a week Jack and Rose worked out a system. He would get up and see Stella off to school and then go up to the attic and work for a few hours. Rose stayed in bed until Monica woke up. It seemed best to let her wake up naturally, at least until she got a little older. Fortunately, her sleeping already had a fairly consistent pattern. Rose told him not to, but every time she woke her up for a feeding he got up as well. At noon they had lunch together. After that Jack would take care of Monica for a few hours so Rose could have some time to herself.

The rest of the winter flew by. Jack began working on a new series of paintings based on their time in Europe. When he wasn't working on those he was drawing Rose or the children or all three. He filled an entire portfolio with just sketches of them. "I thought we got a camera so you wouldn't have to do that all the time?" Rose joked one afternoon as he was starting yet another drawing. "But then again," she added, "I'm not sure if we need any photographs of Monica being fed."

"Don't tempt me," he said.

"Jack—"

"I wouldn't show them to anyone. I'd actually been thinking about that."

"About photographing me while I'm feeding the baby?"

"About doing more photography in general."

"You were?" she asked, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I dunno…There was a lot going on. It just kinda slipped my mind. We haven't even developed the photos we took in Europe yet."

"You should do it," she said. "Develop them, I mean."

"You think so?" He considered the idea. He didn't really know anything about how photographs were developed, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn.

A few days later he went to the public library and found a book on photography. Instead of painting, he spent that morning reading it from cover to cover. The rest of the week was spent turning the dining room they never used into a darkroom.

"Wow," Rose said, awe in her voice. "How did you do all of this so quickly?" Monica looked around the room, her blue eyes taking in everything. "She's never even seen this room before," Jack said, chuckling. "Look at her."

"Isn't your father talented?" Rose said. "Look at what he's managed to create." She smiled at him over Monica's head. "I haven't really created anything yet," he said. "We don't even know if the photos I took are any good."

"They are," she said confidently. "You have a gift." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, I do. You." He kissed her. "And you," he added, kissing Monica, who squealed happily. She held out her arms for him to take her. "Oh, alright," he said dramatically. "If you insist." He carefully settled her against his chest. "Do you think it's warm enough for a walk?" he said.

"When I checked the thermostat this morning it was 75 degrees." Rose eyed Monica with concern. "Is that—would she be…"

After debating about it for ten minutes they finally decided to wrap Monica in one of Jack's flannel shirts, just in case. They stayed close to the house and walked slowly. Although he'd carried her everyday for four months Jack was still terrified he would drop her. Secretly, Rose was afraid she would drop her too.

"It's so beautiful today," Rose said, turning her face up toward the sun. The trees were in full bloom. Flowers were sprouting up everywhere. "Almost makes me want to draw landscapes," he joked. "But those aren't exciting," she said. "Not like all those drawings you have of me sleeping."

"Some of the most beautiful drawings I've done are of you sleeping."

"Jack," she said after a few minutes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He slowly bent down so Monica could see a butterfly. She shrieked happily and tried to grab it. "No, no, no," he said, straightening his body. "We don't touch them."

"Darling, isn't she a bit young to know that?"

"Yeah, I guess she is," he said sheepishly. "But she seems to love them." He kissed the top of Monica's head. "You like colors, don't you?" 

"She'll be an artist too, if we're not careful."

Jack smiled, a vision of Monica learning to draw flashing before his eyes. He could show her how. When she got old enough, he could give her pencils of her own. He could teach her about light, about how to use shading to create depth. "Yeah, she might be," he said. "But she doesn't have to be," he added. "She doesn't have to be anything but herself."

"What do you think she'll be like?" Rose said. "When she's older?"

"Like you."

"I hope not."

"I don't. I think she'll be just like you, have a fire all her own."

"Srella reminds me of myself sometimes," she said. "Of the way I used to be. Except, she's…she's quieter than I was. She watches the way you do."

"And she isn't even ours," he said, trying to make it into a joke. Rose sighed. "I can't help wishing she was. I still think she should have been."

"There's nothing we can do about that," he said. "And it doesn't matter. We still love her."

"I do love her….Jack, could we—" She shook her head. "No. That wouldn't work."

"Tell me. Whatever it is, we can make it work. We made Monica here," he added, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Could we adopt her?"

"Do you really want to?"

She nodded. "I do. I've wanted to for awhile now. It just seems like the right thing to do. After all, she may as well be our daughter at this point anyway."

"I've been thinking the same thing," he said. "I just wasn't sure how to tell you."

Rose was silent for a moment. "Do you think she would want us to?" It was a possibility neither of them had considered. They needn't have worried. When they finally asked her about it two weeks later she was the happiest they'd ever seen her.


	137. Chapter 137

_Philadelphia_

_August 1915_

Cynthia stared at the newspaper on the table in front of her. Her hands were numb as she picked it up, though, given the size of the headline there was no need to. "RENOWNED ARTIST AND WIFE ADOPT CHILD." In the almost two years since she had left her daughter with Jack and Rose Cynthia had rarely let herself think about what her life was like. It was good, that she was sure of. Jack and Rose had the money to take care of her, and what's more they seemed to actually understand her, an Olympian feat in Cynthia's estimation. But now here it was, in bold black capital letters, her daughter's fate.

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

_Georgia_

_September 1915_

"Are you sure you're from Wisconsin?" Rose said. "Oh, I'm sure," Jack said. "Got the accent to prove it don't I?" She laughed. "Everyone seems to think you do." Over the course of the day they had explored two counties and everyone they spoke to looked at them as though they each had two heads. One woman, upon learning Rose had been educated in Pennsylvania, shook her head and said, "Bless your heart, child." Confused and unsure how to respond—was she being pitied or insulted?—Rose simply said, "Thank you."

Around five o'clock they found themselves in Dawson County, the name of which Rose wasted no time pointing out. "Why didn't we move _here_?" she said, laughing. "I don't know," Jack said with a laugh of his own. "What were we thinking?" And that was where Rose's question about where he was from came in. Stella, though she didn't say anything, had been wondering the same thing since they passed the sign.

A few minutes later they found themselves in the heart of town, which as it turned out, was called Dawsonville. "We just have to move," Rose said, shaking her head as she climbed out of the car. "That's all there is to it."

"Do you really mean that?" Jack asked, handing her Monica. He was already coming up with ways to make it happen when she said, "Not really."

The four of them wandered through the town square for awhile. There wasn't much to see; it was almost identical to the other towns they'd been through that day. For Jack and Stella, however, just watching the people go about their everyday business was just as fascinating as wandering through the Louvre. Monica stared at everything, amazed by the barrage of new sights. She pointed and grabbed at whatever came her way. Rose couldn't help but laugh as she watched her. "You're a tiny version of your father," she said, kissing her cheek. "Fascinated by everything you see."

Jack—and Stella's—love of people watching was actually the reason behind their trip. At breakfast that morning the conversation had somehow settled on how long it had been since they had just gone off for no reason, no destination in mind, and somehow, before they knew it, they were leaving. Jack wasn't sure, but a part of him wondered if Rose hadn't brought up their lack of wandering on purpose.

They ate dinner in a small restaurant run by a family out of the backroom of their house. It was a large room filled with tables. The door led directly to a large porch where a few old men sat in rocking chairs smoking pipes and the "Wa-uh auv Nauth-an Ahgresshun."

Stella leaned over to Rose and whispered, "What war are they talking about?"

"I think they're talking about the Civil War," Rose said. Just then their waitress, a woman with small, grey eyes, wide hips and hair the color of dust, appeared. "Wasn't nothin civil about it," she said. "Oh, I'm sorr—" Rose began, embarrassed. "Then why is it called that?" Stella asked, her curiosity overcoming any sense of social propriety or shame.

"Yankees call it that," the woman said, swiveling her wrist inward and placing it on her hip. Stella just stared at her. "What?" she finally managed to say. "You know, people from up North," the woman said. Something flashed in her eyes. "You're not from here, are you?"

"No," Jack said. "Not originally."

She nodded. "I could tell. I could tell from the way you talked."

"Why don't you talk like us?" Stella asked. It was a question she had often tried to get her classmates to answer, but whenever she asked them they gave her funny looks. "You don't talk like us," they said. "You're the one who doesn't talk right." She wasn't bothered by their reaction. It was one of the nicer things they said to her. At least they didn't call her orphan anymore. Jack and Rose, of course, had no idea about any of it. She'd never told them.

"Well…" The woman paused. "We just don't talk the same," she said. "Yankees talk like you, and we talk like this." Her answer didn't come close to satisfying Stella, but it was still the best answer anyone had ever given her. "Okay," she said. "Why do you call it the War of Northern Aggression then?"

And for the next twenty minutes they were all treated to a lecture on the evils of the North before, during, and after the 1860s. A few times the men on the porch joined in.

…..

Rose looked down at Monica; she was sleeping soundly, her head resting on Rose's chest. Her pudgy hands gripped the front of Rose's dress, her fingers curled around the fabric as though something were trying to pull her away. Smiling, Rose brushed her lips across the top of her head. Her hair was still a flaming red. She was only eight months old yet it already reached her neck and was even trying to curl. Jack glanced over at her. "She asleep?" he whispered. Rose nodded. So was Stella. She lay sprawled across the backseat of the car, one of Jack's coats spread over her like a blanket. Her right arm was wrapped around a book.

"Can you get out okay?" he whispered, opening the door for Rose. She just nodded. He stepped back, arms outstretched, ready to grab her if needed. Her legs were a little wobbly from sitting still for so long, but she managed to make it to the ground. Monica didn't even seem to notice. Nor did she notice when Rose laid her in her crib a few minutes later.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Jack whispered, slipping his arms around Rose's waist from behind. She sighed happily and leaned back against him. "Just like you," he added. She felt his breath on her ear and shivered. His hands flattened against her stomach. She sucked in her breath as he pressed his lips to her neck. Slowly, agonizingly slowly it seemed to her, he made a trail of kisses up her neck, stopping when he reached her jaw. "Jack…"

The next thing she knew he was lowering her onto their bed. She ran her hands through his hair; the blonde locks were like silk between her fingers. His hands were pressed against her back. She could feel him fumbling with the buttons of her dress. "Having trouble?" she teased. "I would think after three and a half years of undressing me—" His lips crashed into hers. A few seconds later he finished with the last of the buttons. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up. "Jack," she sighed. He answered by brushing his lips across her throat. He removed her arms from his neck. Slowly he began to pull her dress forward, inching it down her arms.

"Jack." Her voice was thick with urgency. The top of her dress fell forward, exposing the thin camisole she wore underneath. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were holding back a grin. "Yes, miss?" He pressed his lips to one breast and then the other, gently flicking his tongue over her nipples through the cloth. With a groan she pressed him closer. His hands moved to her hips; in one quick motion he laid her down. She drew her legs up so her knees were on either side of him. She swallowed another groan as his hands began to travel up her thighs. Her breathing quickened. "Jack."

He glanced up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark pools of desire that mirrored his own. "Rose." It came out a whisper. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him onto her.

**AN: I'm going to update everything else soon. I've just had the vision of the next few chapters in my head for so long I need to go ahead and get them written.**


	138. Chapter 138

_Philadelphia_

_October 1915_

She couldn't stop thinking about it; every time she closed her she saw the headline instead of blackness. It was infuriating. Why couldn't she just let it go? After all, hadn't she made the choice? Hadn't she left? They most certainly hadn't asked her to leave a child with them, though they seemed to have had no problem keeping her. As the words ran through her head yet again she began to wonder what would have happened if they _hadn't_ kept her.

_But of course they would,_ she thought. _I knew they would. If I hadn't, I never would've left her. _

She went over that night again and again. Sitting on the bed in guest room, legs tucked under her, the Heart of the Ocean glittering in her hands, her mind had been just as full then. All the possibilities stretched out before her. What couldn't she do? What _would_ she do? She never had a choice before, or so it had always seemed. Survival was the only option. Survival at any cost and by any means necessary. As she held the diamond up to the light a new thought had entered her mind, a new way to survive.

"Cynthia?"

She blinked, suddenly back in the present.

"Cynthia?" The call came again, a hint of impatience buried beneath the pleasant tone. She gave herself one final look in the mirror. Everything appeared to be where it was supposed to be. She took a deep breath, smiled brightly, and hurried down the stairs.

_Georgia_

"Jack, I don't know what to say!" Rose slowly spun around, letting her gaze drift over each piece. The attic was filled with paintings and photographs. Some were of her, some were of them all, some were of the view from the window of their apartment in Calais, but each one was breathtaking. "I don't know how you do it." She turned to face him. "You're so gifted." He shrugged. "Neither do I." He glanced around the room. "They just pour outta me."

"You're showing these, aren't you?"

"If someone wants them."

"Why wouldn't they?" She traced her finger over a painting of her own face. It was perfect, right down to the last detail. But more than that, it was _her_. It wasn't just an image. Somehow he had managed to capture her spirit. "Jack, this is exquisite work."

He smiled, remembering the last time she said that. "Well, they might like those, but I don't know if they'll think too much of the photographs."

"Those are exquisite too," she said. "Look at how you captured the light in this one." He stepped up behind her. His eyes followed her finger. "See?" she said. "That's extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "You really think so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"Alright. I'll start showing them to other people then."

Rose wasn't the only one who had never seen anything like Jack's photographs. A few days after he showed them to her he invited Maxwell and Linda to dinner. Even though his career had long since "taken off" Maxwell was still his agent. Not only had he given him the chance that started his career, but Jack trusted him. He and Linda had both been there during the ordeal with Cal, and they had actually all managed to remain friends after it was over.

"I assume you didn't ask us over just because you can't get enough of our company," Maxwell joked as dinner came to an end. Rose looked up from Monica, who was fighting to get to the floor. She had been trying to crawl for weeks, but Rose wouldn't let her be alone on any floor but the one in the library. It was the only room with a rug. Rose watched a flicker of hesitation pass through Jack's eyes. _Go on,_ she encouraged silently.

"You're right," he said. "I've actually got something to show you."

"What did you come up with now?" Maxwell said, leaning toward him. "Well, I'm not sure if you'll like it," Jack said slowly. "But I might as well show you."

…

Jack sat on the front steps long after they were gone. A full, harvest moon glowed overhead. A soft breeze blew his hair back. It was silent save for the occasional sound of leaves falling. He smiled to himself. Maxwell hadn't just liked his new work; he'd been ecstatic about it. He'd even taken some of it with him. "You'll probably make a lot of money with these," he said. "A lot."

"I'm not worried about that," Jack said.

"No, you never are. But that doesn't mean you won't. Hell, look at how much you've made these past few years."

"Yeah." Jack's discomfort was obvious. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're talented. You deserve it. And look what you been able to do for Rose and the children."

A smile spread across Jack's face. "That's true. And if I have to be a rich guy, at least I made it doing something I love."

Rose's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. "Jack, are you alright?" He nodded. "I'm fine," he said, turning to face her. She looked down at him, concern filling her eyes. "I was just thinking," he said. He tugged on her hand. She rolled her eyes, but she let him pull her onto his lap. "About what?" she said when she was finally settled.

"Everything."

She brushed the hair from his eyes. "Care to elaborate?"

"It's been almost four years since we met," he said. "Four whole years."

"I know. I can't believe it sometimes."

"Neither can I." He wrapped his arms around her. She ran her fingers through his hair as he went on. "It feels like it just happened—all of it. A part of me still can't believe you actually married me." She cupped his chin. Tilting his head up, she said, "Why wouldn't I have married you? I can't imagine ever being married to anyone else." Their lips met a moment later in a soft kiss. "I love you," she whispered, pulling away.

"I love you too."

_Philadelphia_

_December 1915_

Cal whistled softly as he walked into the dining room. It wasn't something he did very often, nor was it an ability he was eager for other people to know about. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't help himself. _What's wrong with me?_ he wondered. And then it hit him: he was happy. "Huh. Thought I was all along," he murmured to himself. He picked up the newspaper next to his plate. He quickly scanned the headlines, his good mood vanishing completely when his eyes fell on "DAWSON PHOTOGRAPH EXHIBIT TO OPEN NEXT WEEK IN NEW YORK".

His hands clenched into fists. Were people not tired of him yet? To make matters worse, there was a photograph underneath the article. Even in a grainy black and white photo the joy in Rose's smile was obvious. One of Jack's arms was wrapped around her waist. _Couldn't he keep his hands off of her long enough to take the photograph? _In his other arm he held a baby girl. Her eyes were wide, but she was grinning. Curls covered her head. _Where did the other one come from? They can't have a child that old. Unless he already had one when they met. _But that didn't make much sense either. He wasn't old enough.

"Darling, are you alright?"

Cal's head snapped up. "Fine," he said smoothly. He laid the newspaper aside, the corners of his mouth curling into the beginnings of a smile. "I just read something unfortunate in the paper, but it's nothing you need concern yourself with." Cynthia nodded, returning the smile. "I wouldn't even know how to get through the first paragraph of one of those articles."


	139. Chapter 139

"You don't have to go," Rose said. "Do you?" Jack dipped his brush in the red paint. It was almost gone. He glanced at the other bottles; they were still almost full. _I've been painting her more than I realized. _"I don't want to," he said. "Believe me, I'd much rather stay here. Spending two weeks with art critics and rich people who think they're art critics is not my idea of fun."

"Not even when those people are falling over themselves to praise you?"

"Especially when they're falling over themselves to praise me." He dunked the brush in the cup of water next to his elbow. His eyes darted from the bottle of blue paint to Rose. "Don't move." She smiled slightly. "How many times have we done this?" He poured a few drops of white into the blue and began to stir. "Not nearly enough." Her smiled widened. Even after almost four years just the thought of Jack using her for his art made her warm all over.

"Relax your face," he said quietly. "Remember, no laughing." Their eyes met. Suddenly his face felt hot. "Are you blushing _again_?" she teased. "I can't imagine what you would do if I weren't wearing this dress." He ducked his head. Muttering to himself he began to paint faster. The brush flew across the canvas in smooth, bold strokes. "What was that?" she pressed. "I didn't quite hear you."

"I said if you weren't wearing that dress this brush wouldn't be in my hands."

Now it was her turn to blush. _What's wrong with you? You're reacting as though he's never seen you naked before. _But for some reason that just made it even worse. Her breathing quickened. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his hands. The tips of his fingers were smudged with paint, blue for her dress and red for her curls. "How much longer?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat.

He held back a smile. "Almost done."

...

She curled her body around him. Her head rested on his chest. "Have I convinced you to stay yet?" He ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll never, ever go anywhere without you." She laughed. "That's what I wanted to hear." She grew serious. "You're really going, aren't you?" He nodded. "I hafta. They want me there for the opening in New York." His arms tightened around her. "I wish you were going with me."

"Me too. But we can't keep taking Stella out of school, and you said yourself Monica shouldn't be out in this weather."

"Yeah, I know...it won't be so bad." He didn't sound convinced. "We can survive a little time apart."

"Of course we can. That is, unless you happen to fall in love with a beautiful first class girl while you're gone." He kissed her forehead. "As though I could ever love anyone else."

It was raining when Jack left the next morning. "It's fitting," Rose said to herself as she removed her wet coat. She hung it up next to the fireplace to dry. Before breakfast Jack had built a fire in each of the rooms they used. "You know how to do this," he said. "I know you do, but so don't have to..." He trailed off. Suddenly the enormity of what was about to happen sank in. _I'm leaving. I'm leaving for two weeks. Without her. Without any of them. _As if she heard his thoughts Rose said, "We'll be fine." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about us." He kissed her knuckles. "I'll be back before you know it."

And now, standing in the silent house, it was all Rose could do not to cry. "You're just being silly," she scolded herself. "You're a grown woman with children. It isn't as though other husbands don't leave their wives for weeks at a time, as though they don't go off and leave the country with their mistresses all the time." But Jack wasn't one of those husbands, and she wasn't one of those wives. They'd never spent a night apart, barely even spent a _day_ apart. "It isn't that I can't survive without him," she said. "I can." She wrapped her arms around herself. It didn't compare to the way he held her. "What's there to worry about? Nothing is going to happen. You and the children will spend a quiet week here. He will settle that business in New York, and before we know it he'll be back and we'll read all those praises he dislikes so much."

Rose was singing Monica to sleep by the time Jack stepped off the train in New York. It wasn't raining, for which he was grateful, but the wind cut through him like a knife. Shivering, he pulled up the collar of his coat.

….

"I love you." Jack smiled. "I love you too," he said. "Everything okay there?" He closed his eyes and pictured the scene. Monica on the rug, a crayon in her tiny hand, trying desperately to draw. Stella curled up in the armchair next to the fireplace, a book on her lap. Rose on the couch, one of her journals balanced on her knees. Her eyes would be darting from the page, to Monica, to Stella. "We're fine," Rose said. "We miss you, but we're fine." _Monica can't figure out why she can't find you,_ she added silently.

"Give them a kiss for me?"

"You know I will. Jack—" She paused.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Pretend I didn't say anything. Go to bed, you must be exhausted."

Jack _was_ exhausted, butthat didn't stop him from tossing and turning all night. He just couldn't get comfortable. No matter what he tried, it felt wrong. He hugged the extra pillow. "If Rose were here I'd be asleep..."

The next few days passed by in a blur of "Yes, sirs" and "Brilliants". Before he knew it the preparations he'd been asked to oversee were finished. There was nothing left to do but attend the opening party. Alone.

The room was already full when he walked in. A band played in the corner. Couples danced nearby. Waiters gracefully moved through the crowd, refilling drinks as if by magic. Jack couldn't remember when he had seen so many jewels in one place.

_Yeah you do. It was at the last one of these things you went to. Remember how you and Rose—_He pushed the thought away. Thinking about how much fun they had guessing the life story of the people at the last party would just remind him how alone he was. _But at least everything's fine there. _

He slowly moved through the room, making note of everything that was going on. He recognized most of the people, but there were a few he didn't. He felt some of the women's eyes on him as he walked. He smiled to himself. _Well, Rose was right there __**are**__ beautiful women about….but they're not her. _

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Cal was sipping a glass of brandy like it was the last one he'd ever get and glaring at Jack. He didn't know why he'd come. It had been an impulsive decision. He had business in New York, and it just so happened that—Except it wasn't quite the coincidence he kept telling himself it was. Part of him _wanted_ to be there, wanted to see this "success" of Jack's for himself.

_Look at them,_ he thought, scanning the crowd, _fawning over him like he's actually done something worth praising. _He snorted quietly. _As though anyone couldn't do what he does. _He glanced over at a portrait of Rose. She was lying on her side, a sheet wrapped around her body. Her arms and shoulders were bare. Her eyes were half closed. Her smile somehow managed to be serene and coy at the same time. Jack had done the portrait twice, first as a photograph, then as a charcoal sketch. "Doesn't she ever put clothes on?" He tried to be disgusted and failed.

"I like that one too." Cal froze. "It was such a perfect moment," Jack continued quietly. Cal turned his head slightly. No, he wasn't hallucinating. Jack really was standing next to him, calm as could be. Cal opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound Jack held up his hand and snapped his fingers. Suddenly two men were at his side. "Need something, sir?" one of them said in a thick Irish accent. He was tall and burly with close cropped red hair. "Would you please escort this man out?" Jack said.

"Of course sir," the second one, also Irish, said. They grabbed Cal by the arms and roughly began to march him toward the back door. When they were a few steps away he finally regained his voice. "Do you know who I am?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea—"

"Not our boss."

**AN: Hope you liked it! More updates are coming!**


	140. Chapter 140

**AN: More updates are coming! Reviews are always encouraged. **

Cal landed on the sidewalk with a loud _splash_. His mouth curled in disgust. There was no end to the diseases he might have just contracted. He shook his hands, wincing when a few drops of dirty water hit his face. "Rat bastard thinks he's so smart." He pulled himself to his feet, doing everything he could to avoid touching the puddle any more than he already was. "I'll show him."

_How do you plan to do that? Come back in an hour with a gun? It didn't quite work out the last time you tried that. Hitting the wrong person was the least of your problems, remember? _"As if I could forget," he muttered angrily. Even after the trial ended, even after his father found a way to keep him from having to set foot in another jail cell, the nightmare had continued. His name stopped being in the papers, but it didn't stop being in people's whispers. Everywhere he went he felt eyes on his back. He heard the snatches of conversation. No-one said anything to his face—no-one dared. Men treated him as they always had though there was a new coldness in their eyes. _We can't afford to be too close to you,_ they said silently. _Our reputations must be preserved. You understand. _Yes, he understood. He understood he had committed the sin of actually doing what many of them could only dream of doing. Or at least that's what he told himself.

But it wasn't the men's reserve that bothered him most. His business hadn't suffered, and he had no shortage of drinking partners so all in all it really wasn't that bad. It would blow over eventually anyway. No, it was the way women began to shy away from him. It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. The younger women began to avoid speaking to him at parties. They clustered together in little groups, whispering behind their hands. It was as if they had a secret pact not to let any of their sisters get too close to him.

He shrugged it off. After Rose he had had enough of demure virgins. But then it got worse. Suddenly no women wanted to be near him. Women who had once gone out of their way to be near him, women who had once flirted shamelessly, pressing a hand on his arm as they talked suddenly found every excuse not to speak to him.

And that's when Cynthia arrived. She burst into his life like a sudden rainstorm during a drought. Undaunted by his reputation she pursued him, something which he found oddly titillating. Normally he was repulsed by bold women—though not so much so he couldn't enjoy a few hours of their company—but with Cynthia it was different. Had he given the situation more thought he would have realized the difference had nothing to do with her. She was just like all the other women who wore the latest fashion a bit too self consciously, the women who smothered their natural prettiness in finery and rendered themselves plain without even realizing it. When she bumped into him at a dinner party, accidentally on purpose of course, dollar signs glittered in her eyes.

He hadn't cared. At least she wasn't fleeing in terror like all the others. And that had made all the difference.

Cal trudged into his hotel room. His shoes made a sickening _squish_ sound. They would have to be thrown away. He surveyed himself in the full length mirror. It would all have to be thrown away.

As he slipped into bed that night, his skin still pink from a round of scalding water and scrubbing, Jack's face flashed before his eyes. That look he had worn. It filled Cal with rage. The way he had just stood there talking calmly. Everything about him had radiated confidence. Cal clenched his teeth. Jack didn't have as much power as he thought. _And I'll remind him of that. _

Meanwhile, in a hotel a few blocks over Jack was curled up in bed, the phone cradled between his chin and shoulder. Stella's voice filled his ear. "You won't be gone much longer, right?" she asked. "No," he said firmly. "In fact I won't be gone as long as I thought I would be."

"Really?"

"Don't tell Rose though, okay? I want to surprise her."

"I won't tell her….Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too, Stella Maris. Put Rose on?"

He didn't tell Rose about Cal. There was no reason to. Nothing happened. _He was there. I threw him out. End of story. _She would worry anyway. It didn't matter that there was nothing to worry about. Cal wasn't going to do anything else. He _couldn't_ do anything else.

…..

Jack swung his bag over his shoulder and descended into the crowd. Half the city of Philadelphia seemed to be fighting their way onto a train. All he wanted to do was catch the one that would take him the rest of the way home. He moved quickly through the crowd. "No, no," he muttered to himself as he read the destination of each train. "Not that one."

Suddenly a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He spun around, tensed and ready to spring. "Alonso?" he said with a mixture of surprise and relief. _Did you really think it would be—Shut up. _The older man nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Hope I didn't startle you." Jack shook his head. "Not at all," he said, returning the smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to get you, actually."

"How did she know I would be here?"

Alonso shrugged. "Maybe Rose told her."

"Yeah maybe."

Jack was still searching for an answer when a maid showed him into the dining room. Ruth sat at the head of a large table. A handful of women occupied the seats at the end closest to her. They, especially the younger ones, eyed him with interest.

"Jack," Ruth said, standing up, "I was afraid you wouldn't make it in time for lunch. Come, sit down," she added, indicating the empty chair on her right. His head spun with questions, but he sensed it was not the time to ask them. His stomach gave a quiet growl. _Well, I __**am**__ hungry. _


	141. Chapter 141

Jack didn't have time to wonder what Ruth was up to. For an hour and a half all he did was answer questions about everything from how he learned to draw—"I just always could"—to where his wife was—"At home with our children." The two youngest women exchanged glances when he said that. "Do you leave her alone often?" asked the one on the left. She spoke with a crisp New England accent. There was an edge beneath her pleasant tone. Her auburn hair was swept back from her face with silver clips. Dark grey eyes flashed in a porcelain face.

"I don't," Jack said. "This is the first time we've ever been apart." A flicker of sadness passed across his face. "It was better for the children to stay at home this time."

"There are people who could take care of them for you," Ruth said mildly. _There's no need for her to do it,_ she added silently. _Not with the money you have._ Had they been alone she would have gone ahead and said it, but the debate she was sure would ensue wasn't something she wanted other people to hear. She would get exasperated. He would start trying to convince her—yet again—that money didn't matter. No, it was best just to avoid the whole thing.

"Yeah, I know," Jack said with a slight grin. "But Rose doesn't want to just them leave with someone if she doesn't have to." The auburn haired woman spoke again, "So you let her make that decision for herself?" Jack nodded. "Yes, ma'am I do." The woman and her companion, a delicate blonde, exchanged glances again. "That's rather progressive of you," said the blonde. "Most men I've encountered don't feel that way."

"Some of my views are a bit unpopular." He shot a glance at Ruth who pretended not to notice. "Or so I'm told."

"That's because most men see women as chattel," said the woman on his left. She was significantly older than the two who had just spoken, but there was a youthful vitality in her face. Her eyes were alert and missed nothing. "Until women are seen as human beings we'll never get the vote." She looked Jack square in the eye. "How do you feel about women's suffrage, Mr. Dawson?"

"Call me Jack. And I don't see any reason why they shouldn't have it."

She cracked a small smile. "Tell me, Jack, are you one of those men who believes in a woman's right to vote so you can use your wife's vote to further your own political interests?"

"Not at all. I have a feeling my wife and I would agree in that area though."

"Your wife sounds like a lucky woman." The blonde clapped her mouth shut. Had she really said that out loud? Jack turned to face her. "I don't know about that," he said with a chuckle. "I've always thought of myself as the lucky one."

When the front door closed on the last woman Jack pounced on Ruth. "Why did you send Alonso after me?" He leaned against the wall, thumbs hooked through his suspenders. "And how did you even know where I'd be?"

Ruth pursued her lips. "You won't be satisfied until I explain, will you?"

"Considering I could be halfway home by now, no."

Ruth sighed. "I don't want to hear about this ever again. Do you understand? If you mention it I'll deny every word. The truth is, I needed you. Are you happy?"

"I'm not sure that's the right word for it. What do you mean you needed me?"

"The women you met—" She gestured toward the door. "—are part of an organization I've applied to join."

"Wait." He stood up straight. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying—"

"That _you_ needed _me_ to get someone to like you?" He let himself fall back against the wall. "That—that really is the first thing I have to tell her."

"You can't tell her!"

"Why not? She'll probably find out one way or another anyway."

"No, she won't. We're the only people who know her who also know about this."

"Good point. If it means that much to you I won't tell her, okay?" Ruth nodded. Her relief was evident in her voice. "Thank you, Jack." He shrugged. "It's nothing. But since we're keeping this between us, mind tellin me what this organization is?" She hesitated. "I may as well know what I'm helping you get into," he added.

"The Women's Equality League."

He gaped at her. "_You_? _You_ want—"

"No, no, no! Of course not! I don't believe in any of those things they kept asking you about. I think they would all be better off if they found themselves a husband."

"With money, I'm sure."

She looked pained. "It _does_ make a difference in the quality of one's life."

"Depends on what you mean by that." He swung his bag over his shoulder. "Where did I come into this?"

"They love your work, and when I told them—"

He laughed. "I think I get it. I don't get why you want to join them if you think they're fools though."

"They may be fools, but their head fool runs the best circle in Philadelphia."

Jack shook his head slowly. "Why didn't I guess that?"

…..

The sun was rising when Jack stepped into the house. It was silent. He shivered. The downstairs fires must have gone out during the night. "But that won't take long to fix."

Rose rolled over, twisting the blankets around her as she went. She threw her arm across the bed. A smile spread across her face. She murmured something and curled her arm around Jack's hips. He watched, amused, as her eyes flew open a moment later. "Jack!" She shot up. "You—you're—when did you—" She took a deep breath. But her words came out in a rush anyway. "You aren't supposed to be here yet. Not that I'm upset you're back. I'm not. But—" He cut her off with a kiss. "You weren't what I expected to wake up to," she said with a smile. He cradled her face in his hands. "Why did you come back so early? Did something—"

"Everything's fine. Nothing happened." _Liar. _

"What are they going to say about you leaving almost a week early?"

"I took care of it." He moved his hands to her waist. "I took care of everything." She wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him closer she said, "I missed you." He kissed her, a soft, loving kiss. "I missed you too." She lay back, pulling him down with her. He threw the blankets over himself. She giggled. "Your legs are freezing!" She snuggled closer to him, wrapping her legs around his. His head rested against her chest. "I'm not cold anymore," he said. "I'm finally warm again."

**AN: The next one will be more "O snap!" worthy. I just thought a light chapter would be nice before the plot starts to thicken again. **


	142. Chapter 142

**AN: This one has a bit of M in it. Just a heads up. **

Jack closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Hot water rushed over his neck and down his chest. He grabbed the soap. Lathering his chest he gave a silent prayer of thanks for hot showers on cold winter nights. He was just about to start soaping his hair when he heard a quiet giggle. "Wonder who that could be."

Rose's arms snaked around his waist. She pressed her lips to his shoulder. Grinning, he looped an arm around her. "C'mere." She giggled, louder this time, as he swung her around. "Jack! You're getting me wet!" She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but to no avail. "That's what happens in a shower," he said. He pulled her closer. She smiled up at him. A few wet curls stuck to her cheeks. "I know what happens in a shower," she said. "Then you know that generally one person showers at time," he said, brushing the curls away from her face. "Oh really?" He nodded. Slowly their faces began to move closer. "Yeah, really." Their lips were just inches from touching. "Are you telling me to leave?" His hand found the small of her back. "I'm telling you there's not enough space for us both so we need to get a little closer." He pressed her to him. Her lips brushed his. "Like this."

Rose sucked in her breath. His fingers curled around her jaw. She pressed a hand against the back of his neck. The kiss started out soft and slow, but it didn't stay that way for long. Rose's hands moved easily over Jack's slick body. He groaned quietly. "Rose." His lips moved across her face, down her neck and over her breasts. She twisted her fingers in his still hair as he left a trail of kisses down her belly….

Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, things were not going nearly so well for Cal. He was in bed, blankets up to his chin, hot water bottle on his chest, with the worst flu he had ever had. His head ached. His eyes were bleary. He couldn't stop coughing. One minute his nose was running and the next it was plugged like a bottle of wine with a cork in it. Breathing was a chore, and he'd all but given up eating. His three day fever had him shaking with cold.

"It's all his fault. Having me thrown into a puddle of filthy water in weather like this. I should sue him." He grabbed a handkerchief off the table next to the bed. Winching, he wiped his nose. His skin was so raw not even silk felt good. "Should've just killed him when I had the chance. Both of them—" He leaned forward, clutching his chest, overcome by another coughing fit.

"Poor dear," Cynthia cooed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He straightened up. Wiping his mouth, he said, "I thought you went out for the night."

"I had, but the thought of you here all alone like this was just too much for me." He smiled weakly. "How kind of you." She laid her hand on his. "It is the very least I could do." She looked up at him through her lashes. "After all, you _are_ my husband." He pressed his other hand over hers. "You've never had any trouble remembering that."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Not unless you know a way to hurt the bastard who did this to me." Seeing her shocked look, he added, "Forget I said that. I wasn't thinking. Forgive me." She smiled sweetly. "Of course." Standing up, she said, "Shall I have something sent up to you?"

He nodded. "Tea."

When the tea arrived he was pleased to discover a shot of brandy had been added. "_She_ knows how to honor a husband," he said as he sipped it. Not like Rose. She wasn't the type of woman who would come and see how her sick husband was doing. "She probably wouldn't even care. If she were my wife it wouldn't matter one bit to her if this illness killed me. Some are women are like that."

The next morning he felt good enough to eat a few pieces of toast—"_Dry_. I can't handle anything but _dry_ toast."—and half a pot of brandy laced tea. It was unseemly to drink before dinner, but he decided that as an invalid, even a temporary invalid, rules like that didn't apply to him. Cynthia had her own breakfast brought up. "You shouldn't have to be so isolated," she said.

He was propped up in bed, the morning paper spread across his lap, feeling better than he had in days when suddenly there it was, _his_ name. "Will he never stop plaguing me?" Cal muttered. He quickly scanned the article, hoping it contained news of some catastrophe, but it was just another piece praising Jack. "Genius." He snorted quietly. "What some people think of as art."

"What's that darling?"

"Nothing. I was just finding it interesting what passes for art these days." She leaned over. "Jack Dawson." Her nose wrinkled. "I wouldn't call those pitiful doodles of his art." Cal found himself grinning. "Go on." For the next ten minutes he listened, captivated, by her opinion of Jack. "And that wife of his—"

"You know his wife? How?" His voice came out harsher than he intended. "How exactly did you meet her?" he asked, forcing his tone to stay light. "Well…" Cynthia twisted her hands. "It's a rather long story…"

_Two Days Later_

Cynthia picked up the copy of the letter Cal's lawyer had left with them. A smile spread across her face as she read it yet again. "Mission accomplished."

At the same time another copy of the letter was being handed to Rose. "Thank you," she said absently, waving the messenger away. She stared at the gold calligraphy on the envelope. "Philadelphia…Who could…" She flipped it over and tore the envelope open, not caring if she destroyed it.

"Rose?" He sounded as though he were calling to her through a tunnel. "Rose?" He touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?" She turned around slowly, clutching the letter. Jack was startled by the look in her eyes. "Rose, honey?" Monica squirmed in his arms. She reached out to Rose. "No, sweetie," Jack said softly. He bounced her gently. "I can take her," Rose said. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "It's fine." Monica settled happily into Rose's arms. She grabbed the front of her dress and began to play with the buttons. Rose hugged her tightly. Tears glistened in her eyes. "My sweet Santa Monica."

Jack's heart was almost racing. "Rose, what's wrong? What's in the letter?" She held it out for him to take. He had to read it twice before the meaning sank in.

"Jack?" Stella stood at the bottom of the stairs in her nightgown. "I'll be up to tell you the rest of the story in a minute," he said. "I didn't forget Stella Maris." His stomach twisted as he watched her go up the stairs.

"What are we going to do, Jack?" Rose's voice was barely a whisper. He pulled her into a half hug. "We'll think of somethin."


	143. Chapter 143

Rose drifted through the next few days barely noticing anything that went on around her. She responded when spoken to but her responses were brief and distant. It was, Stella thought, as though she wasn't really there. A few times she noticed Rose staring at her, but she always stopped if their eyes met. Jack did his best to pretend everything was normal though he knew no-one was fooled, not even Monica, who clung to Rose like never before. Each time Rose tried to put her down she would grab her dress and scream, "Mmmaaa!" Rose didn't seem to mind; in fact Monica was the only one who could still bring a smile to her face.

Jack tried to comfort her, but she brushed him aside with a dull, "I'm fine." _You're not,_ he thought. _I can see it. And neither am I. _He pulled her closer. "Rose, please talk to me." She avoided his eyes. "Don't say there's nothing wrong," he said. "I know there is." He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I see it. And I feel the same way," he added softly. Her chin quivered. "Ja—" She blinked away tears. _No!_ _That isn't going to help you win this!_ She raised her head. Her jaw was set, her voice firm. "When are we supposed to go speak to the lawyer?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Alright." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about me." She started to move away but he stopped her. "Rose—" He sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She wanted to say more, but she forced herself to close her mouth and walk away. If she kept talking she would start crying, and if she started crying—_I'll be weak. I can't beat her if I'm weak. _Her back stiffened. _And I'll be damned if I lose my child to her or anyone else. _

…..

Jack was just about to turn off the light when Stella said, "Is she mad at me?" He paused, his hand on the switch. "No," he said finally. "She isn't. She isn't at all."

"It took you an awfully long time to say that."

"She—she isn't herself right now. But she loves you."

"She doesn't talk to me anymore. Not like she used to."

The sadness in her voice broke Jack's heart. They had agreed not to tell her anything about what was going on. It would just scare her. She was better off not knowing unless she had to. _Should've known she would notice something wasn't right. _And how could she not? Rose really wasn't herself, not even with him, and hadn't been since they'd gotten the letter. "That isn't your fault. She isn't trying to hurt you. She loves you so much." A lump formed in his throat. "We both do."

"You wouldn't send me away then?"

"What?" Did she know something after all? "Why would you ask that?"

"I—I don't know." Shame washed over her. "That was a stupid thing to ask, wasn't it?"

"We would never send you away." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "You're as much our daughter as Monica is."

….

Wade Butler laid his hands flat on his desk. He leaned forward slightly. "I don't see what you're worried about," he said, his thick Georgia drawl coming out even more slowly than usual. "You legally adopted the child. There's nothing anyone can do about that. Now, the mother could've contested it at the time, but she didn't. It looks to me like she just wants to waste a lotta people's time and cause a lotta unnecessary trouble."

Rose's stomach began to unknot for the first time in almost a week. "So we shouldn't take this seriously?" He held up a hand. "I didn't say that. You should still go up there like that letter says and you should still appear at the hearing but other than that—" He shrugged. "There's really nothing she can do." 

Jack took Rose's hand. "Told you not to worry," he said quietly. She smiled weakly. "And you were right."

Wade watched them with interest. He had read Jack's name in the paper a few times, had heard some of the local gossip about "that strange Yankee couple", but he had never met either of them until they walked into his office that afternoon. He was struck by how young they were. Rose couldn't be more than twenty, if that, and Jack couldn't be more than twenty five. _This,_ he thought as they sat down, _is the famous Dawson couple? _And now he watched as Jack kissed Rose's hands. "It's all gonna be okay," he said. She nodded, her eyes brightening. "I love you." A grin spread across his face. He squeezed her hands. "I love you too."

_He really does,_ Wade thought. _And so does she. _It was amazing; their love for each other was almost tangible. Suddenly he was overcome by the urge to help them. There was just something about them… "You really don't need to worry," he said. "I've gone over everything, and as far as legal claims to the child—" He glanced down at the stack of papers on his desk. "—Stella. You two are the only people who have one. As far as the law is concerned _you_ are her parents. Her mother gave up her right to her when she let you adopt her. All you have to do is walk into that room and prove you've adopted her." He shrugged. "It's that simple."

…..

Rose stopped just outside the library. Stella was in the oversized chair next to the fireplace. Monica was in her lap. Stella held a book out in front of them. Monica was happily grabbing at the pages. "Maa! Daa!"

Stella grinned. "That's them." She brushed her lips across the top of her head. "Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" Monica moved her head in what Stella chose to interpret as a nod. "Okay," she said. "And so the princess…"

"Whatcha doin—" Rose placed a finger over Jack's lips. "Look," she whispered. "Is that the book we made her?" She nodded. "And she's reading it to Monica." Jack wrapped an arm around Rose's waist. She let herself fall against him. "Those are our children," she whispered, turning to look at him. He pulled her closer. "Those are our children."

_Three Weeks Later_

_Philadelphia_

"Do you think they're okay?" Rose asked anxiously. "Why wouldn't they be okay?" Jack said. "It's not like we left them with—"

"My mother."

"She isn't so bad." Rose gave him a look. "She _tries_," he said. Rose sighed. "I know she does. I'm just nervous." He put an arm around her. "Don't be." He gently cupped her cheek. "We don't have anything to worry about." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You're right." She laced her fingers through his. "You're always right."

A moment later the door opened. Jack held his breath as a portly grey haired man in a blue suit walked in, a thick file under his arm. Rose tightened her grip on his hand. "What did you just say?" she whispered. He smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I know." He touched her face. "You—"

"You just can't keep your hands off her, can you?" Cal sat down in the chair across from Rose. He ignored Rose's horrified stare as he let his eyes roam across her body. He glanced at Jack. "Not that I blame you," he said with a smirk.


	144. Chapter 144

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Jack's voice echoed in the silent room. Cal answered without taking his eyes off Rose, "I'm here on behalf of my wife." Rose couldn't believe her ears. _His wife? Cynthia? How? _What would someone like Cal want with someone like Cynthia? She didn't come from a "good" family, she didn't have a "name", she had no—_I gave her the diamond. That's how she did it. _"I believe you know her," Cal continued. "You stole her daughter after all."

"She gave her up!" Rose cried, suddenly finding her voice. Jack moved closer to her. "Rose—" he began. "How dare you say such a thing!" Rose's eyes flashed. "And for her to send _you_—"

"That's quite enough, Mrs. Dawson," a curt voice said, followed by the squeak of a chair being moved. Jack and Rose both turned toward the source of the words, a pale man with sunken cheeks and thinning brown hair. He sat at the end of the table. His grey suit, though of a different era, was very obviously of the best quality. Cal's smile made Rose's stomach lurch. "You always did have trouble controlling your emotions, didn't you?" _Sweetpea_. She shuddered at the word only she could hear. He leaned back, satisfaction in his dark eyes.

Jack's hands were balled into fists under the table. What the hell was going on? Why hadn't Cal been mentioned in the letter? Had he been mentioned and they were just too preoccupied with the fact that Cynthia was trying to take Stella back to realize it? He went back over the letter in his mind. No, there hadn't been any mention of Cal. It hadn't even said her name was Hockley now. _What the hell is going on? Did they plan this? _And where was Cynthia?

"Alright," the man at the head of the table said impatiently, "let's get started." He turned to the man on his right, who, Jack guessed, was Cal's lawyer. "Mr. Mitford would you like to begin?" Mitford. That was the name on the letter. Jack glanced at him. There was a pair of gold wire rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was flipping through the file he carried in. "I don't imagine there's any need to introduce ourselves," he said. He spoke with a crisp, upper crust accent.

"I should say not," Rose said. The aristocratic tones she had used in 1912 were suddenly back. "I don't see any reason for this farce to continue," she added. "The person supposedly suing us for custody of her child couldn't even manage to be here today." Jack's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. He reached over and laid his hand on top of hers. She trembled under his touch. He pressed his hand against hers. _It's alright. _

Her chin was high, her nose all but in the air. She stared straight ahead, forcing herself to focus on the wall above Cal's head. She felt his gaze; his eyes were like a pair of hands sliding across her body. She shuddered again. Jack laced his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand, grateful to have something to hold onto.

"A farce to you Mrs. Dawson is a matter of grave importance to my clients," Harrison Mitford said. "I would think being a mother yourself you would have some sympathy. In fact, I can't understand how you've allowed this to go on at all."

"What are you trying to say?" Jack said angrily. Harrison looked at him, startled by the sudden outburst. He quickly regained his composure. "There's no need for dramatics, Mr. Dawson," he said, disdain coloring his voice. Jack glared at him. "Would it be dramatic if he was asking?" He tilted his head toward Cal, who recoiled as if he had thrown something at him. "Is this really necessary?" Harrison said. "I told you what they're like," Cal said quietly. "And my _wife_—" His eyes burned into Rose's face. "—isn't here because of an illness." The same illness he, himself had gotten over only a few weeks before.

The next few hours inched by. Rose squeezed Jack's hand until his knuckles popped, but he didn't feel it. He stared daggers at Cal, whose own eyes remained trained on Rose. From time to time he would glance at Jack, a smug look creeping across his face, as if to say, "What are you going to do about it?"

Rose bit her tongue more than once to keep from screaming. It was just one inane, irrelevant question after another. If she hesitated before answering, the man at the end of the table, who she had learned was Judge Reginald Sterling, would sigh impatiently and cluck at her to answer. If she looked at Jack he accused her of lying. And Cal's eyes were on her the entire time, moving across her body, groping her like a pair of heavy, fumbling hands.

Jack answered every question as quickly as possible, firing the words at Cal like bullets. Harrison accused him of being uncooperative. Reginald's order for him to "Stop acting like a petulant child" fell on deaf ears. _Just stay calm,_ he told himself. But it was easier said than done. He had always prided himself on having control over his anger, of not even having that much anger to need to control, but that day things were different. All he wanted to do was jump across the table and grab Cal by the throat.

"I think that's enough for today, don't you?" Reginald said. Harrison nodded. He closed his file. "I think so." His eyes darted from Jack to Rose. "We can finish tomorrow." They followed each other into the hall, discussing dinner plans as they went. Cal stood up slowly, making sure not to take his eyes off Rose. "Looks as though we'll be seeing each other tomorrow," he said. Rose glared up at him, her free hand clenched into a fist.

Jack stood up; his chair scraped loudly across the floor. Startled, Cal looked over at him. "That's right, look at me you bastard," Jack spat. Cal's mouth curled. "We're very brave now, aren't we?" he mocked. "What are you going to do? You don't have anyone to throw me out for you."

"I don't need anyone to do that for me." Jack's voice was low but menacing. Cal snorted. He turned to walk away. He tossed one last look at Rose over his shoulder. Before he knew what was happening she had arched her neck and spit in his eye.

…..

Rose collapsed onto the bed. She felt as though she hadn't slept in years. Jack flopped down beside her. "You okay?" he asked, rolling onto his side. She nodded. "I'm fine." She rolled over to face him. "We didn't make her do it, did we?"

Jack didn't need to be told who she meant. "No," he said firmly. "We had noting to do with her decision. She decided to leave Stella with us because she thought we were better for her, that we could give her a better life. And we will."

"How could we not if she's married to _him_?" Rose pressed her hand against her abdomen; even through her clothes she could feel the scar. Jack scooted closer, throwing his arm around her. "They won't get her," he said. "I don't care how much money he has. We adopted her, and that's all there is to it." Rose hugged him to her, loving the way his body felt. He was so solid, so strong. During the hearing his hand in hers had been the only thing keeping her from flying across the table at Cal. She felt sick as the memory of his gaze washed over her. Jack slid his other arm around her. "It's over now," he said. She looked into his eyes. "Put your hands on me, Jack."

….

"I'll go on without you," Rose said. "No," Jack said, shaking his head. He tried to wave away the small crowd that had formed around them. "It's fine. Talk to them for a moment," she said. She was already halfway down the hall by the time a reply made it out of his mouth.

She was surprised to see Cal sitting at the table alone. She briefly considered going back and waiting for Jack, but the thought of letting Cal think she was afraid of him was more than she could bear. Nose in the air, she walked to her side of the table and sat down.

"I didn't realize you could go anywhere without him," Cal said, a sarcastic edge in his tone. "Isn't he afraid you'll run away with the first man—ah, miserable rat you see?"

"The only miserable rat I see is you," she said icily. His eyes hardened. "I came here hoping to make a deal with you," he said.

"A deal? With _you_?What could I possibly have—" His smile made her feel sick. "You're even more of an unimaginable bastard than I remembered!" She stood up. As she was rounding the corner of the table he grabbed her arm. "I'm also the only person who can make sure you get to keep that brat."


	145. Chapter 145

**AN: Hope you like it! Review please!**

It all happened so fast that neither Cal nor Rose fully realized what they were doing. One moment his fingers were curled around her arm, the nails pressing against her bare flesh, and the next she was jerking away, jabbing at him with her elbow as she did so. Enraged, he'd thought it would be easy, he drew his hand back. She moved to dodge the blow, twisting her body away and aiming a heavy kick at his groin. He grimaced; pain shot through his lower body. He doubled over as a low moan escaped his throat. Rose darted toward the door, but just as she was about to pass him he grabbed her by the hair. She screamed. Her ears filled with a sickening _rip_ as he dragged her back. She kicked wildly. "Let go of me you son-" Her words were lost in a groan as he slammed her into the wall.

He towered over her, eyes smoldering with a mixture of disgust and rage. "You made me do this," he said. Her head ached; dull pains filled the space behind her eyes. She stared at him blankly. "You always made me do things like this," he added, shaking her. She closed her eyes, not caring that she was flopping about like a rag doll. Her stomach was in knots; a quiet voice in the very back of her mind wondered if she wasn't about to be sick.

Cal dug his fingers into her arms. Bruises were already starting to form, but he didn't care. "No matter what I did for you," he hissed, bringing his face close to hers. She opened her eyes slightly. Somehow he had become so much bigger; he was all she could see. "You always made me hurt you," he said, pressing himself against her.

It was as if a switch had gone off in her head. A new strength began to flow through her veins. She pushed herself forward, shoving him back as she went. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards for a moment, but he soon realized what was happening. She raised her fist; he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm. Tears sprang into her eyes. Swallowing a cry of pain, she shoved herself forward, pushing her twisted arm toward him. Either her burst of strength had only been momentary or he had anticipated her next move because it didn't work; all she managed to do was hurt herself more. He spun her around. Her head flopped to the side as he slammed her into the table corner. "Stupid bitch," he said, pushing her back. He bent over her. There wasn't an inch of space between their bodies. "But you always were, weren't you?"

Her breathing was ragged. Her breasts rose and fell heavily against his chest. He smiled. Her stomach lurched. He pressed her hands flat against the table. She stiffened as he brought his face close to hers. She drew her head back; her mouth curled in disgust. His lips were almost touching hers. She could feel his cold breath on her cheeks.

Cal's heart pounded. He had never been so close to Rose. He was dimly aware that someone could walk in—was probably about to walk in—but it didn't seem to matter. What were they to him? It wasn't as though they could actually do anything to him. He had the judge in his pocket, as always, and as for Jack, well, that was laughable. No, it was just him and Rose. Finally.

He grazed her cheek with his lips. She pulled her head away. "Get off of me!" she hissed. His eyes narrowed. "You never would let me be kind to you." She opened her mouth but his hand collided with her face before any words could come out. The force of the blow made her head spin; pain exploded in the right side of her face. He raised his hand again. "You always—" His words became a high pitched yelp as an arm tightened around his neck.

Jack threw him back. He bounced off the wall with a _thud_. The next thing he knew Jack's fist was in his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air. Jack grabbed him by the collar. He hauled him to his feet and punched him again. Cal threw a fist in his direction but it was a half hearted attempt. Jack dodged it easily. Rose sank to her knees and watched as Jack's fist slammed into Cal's face. She lost count of how many times he hit him. Finally he let Cal fall. He stared up at him, his body curled protectively. Blood poured from his nose, his lips, and a cut on his cheek. His face was already swollen; one of his eyes was almost shut.

The look on Jack's face would have scared Rose if she had seen it on anyone else. His blue eyes, normally so bright, so ready to hold a grin, now burned with hatred. Jack was breathing heavily. Beads of sweat covered his forehead. His hands flexed; the urge to hit and keep hitting was overwhelming. _Stop,_ he told himself. _You can't kill him. _

With a groan Cal grabbed the leg of the nearest chair. Slowly, he began to pull himself up. He was almost to his knees when Jack's foot hit his chest. He flew backwards. His eyes were closed when he landed.

Jack turned around. Rose was bent over, leaning against the table. She lifted her head. Her eyes brightened just barely at the sight of him. "Jack." She took a tentative step forward. She felt herself beginning to fall. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for more pain, but instead she landed in Jack's arms.

He hugged her tightly. "Rose, Rose, Rose," he chanted, pressing her against his chest. He gently took her face in his hands. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. Her right cheek was a dark, ugly purple. "I'm so sorry. Rose, I'm so sorry. I shouldn'tve left you alone."

"I can be alone," she said, smiling weakly. "I'm not helpless." He gave her a soft kiss. "I know you aren't. You're the strongest person I've ever known." But it didn't matter how strong she was; physically she would never be a match for Cal. "C'mon," he said, moving an arm to her waist. "Let's get you outta here."

"Jack, I can—"

"Rose, please."

She gave in with a soft sigh and sank against him. His arms encircled her. Slowly they walked, ignoring the small crowd that had gathered to see what all the noise was about. Jack silenced the few people who dared to whisper with a glare. When they reached the steps of the courthouse he picked her up. She didn't even try to protest.

At the bottom they met Reginald and Harrison, who gaped at them. "What are you doing?" Reginald said. "You're supposed to be—"

"I'm well aware of what we're supposed to be doing," Jack said coldly. He shifted his glare to Harrison. "You need to explain the law a little more to your client."

"What are you talking about? This is absurd!"

"I'm talking about the living hell I'm about to make his existence." They stared at his back as he walked away. "And you can tell his wife not to even think she'll get our daughter," he added over his shoulder.

The front hall was empty when they came in. Jack breathed a silent prayer of relief. The last thing he felt like doing was explaining what had just happened. There would be plenty of time for that later, after he got Rose into bed.

…

"Is it really necessary? I'm fine. He only hit me once." As soon as the words left her mouth Rose knew she had made a mistake. Jack's eyes darkened. "Once too many," he said quietly. She pulled the blanket up over her arms even though he had already seen the bruises. He'd seen the bruises on her back as well. He kissed her hands. "Please?"

Jack waited in the hall while the doctor looked Rose over. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. How could this have happened? _I was only_ _gone for a few minutes. It shouldn't have been long enough for…_Bu it had been. It had been more than enough time for Cal to get his hands on Rose again. He sighed. What would he say when Ruth asked what was wrong with her? _The truth. You'll just tell her the truth. She can handle it. She's the one who wanted her to marry him. _

"Mr. Dawson?"

His eyes flew open. The doctor peered at him, concern in his grey eyes. "Is she okay?" Jack said, moving toward the door. The doctor moved to block his path. "She's fine, or she will be. She's got a few bruises that will probably hurt for the next few days." Jack clenched his fists. "What I'd really be concerned about," he added, "is the baby."


	146. Chapter 146

Rose was curled up on the bed when Jack came in; her back was to him. The room was dark save for a sliver of light that came through the space between the drapes. If she noticed his entrance she didn't show it. She didn't even move when he sat down next to her. "Rose?" he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Rose honey—" She rolled over. "Are you angry?" He stared at her, confused. "What?" She sat up slowly. Hugging her knees to her chest, she said, "Are you angry because I didn't tell you?"

"No." He touched her face. "But I wanna know _why_ you didn't tell me."

"I—" The words stuck in her throat. "I was afraid it wouldn't last," she said finally. She studied his face, waiting for a reaction. He pushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. "Are you still afraid of that?"

"I am now."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Don't be." He kissed her temple. "Don't worry. It'll be alright."

Rose didn't argue when Jack insisted she stay in bed for the rest of the day. She wasn't sure if she thought it would help—any damage caused by her encounter with Cal had already been done and that was just all there was to it, at least, that's what she was trying to make herself believe—but she knew it couldn't hurt. "I'll back in a little while," he said, tucking the blankets around her arms. "Jack, it isn't the least bit cold in here," she said, a smile creeping across her face. He kissed her. "I'm not taking any chances." He cupped her face. "With either of you." He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you too." She grabbed his hand as he turned to walk away. "Promise me you won't—" _Kill him. _He squeezed her hand. "I won't. Don't worry."

Rose settled back against the pillows with a heavy sigh. The clock on the table next to her read 12:20 PM. Was it really still that early? It felt like a thousand years had passed since they had left for the courthouse that morning. She slowly ran her hands over her stomach. There wasn't even a hint of a bump yet. She didn't even have morning sickness. If it hadn't been for her two—almost three now—missed periods she doubted she would have even known she was pregnant. The first few weeks hadn't been anything like her first few weeks with Monica. She didn't know which were worse, endless symptoms or no symptoms.

"I should have told him," she murmured. "The second I knew I should have told him. He shouldn't have found out like this." Hugging herself, she rolled onto her side. "Please be alright," she whispered. "He wants another child so much." He didn't say it; he didn't have to. She could see it in his eyes sometimes. He watched her with Monica and she knew he was imagining what it would be like to have another redheaded baby toddling around. "He will love you so much." _And so will I. _

…..

Jack peeked in at Monica and Stella. They were on the floor of Stella's room, books and papers spread all around them. Monica watched, fascinated, as Stella covered a sheet of paper with writing. She tried to grab the pencil from her hand. "No, Monica," Stella said gently. "You have to hold it like this." Jack smiled as she carefully folded Monica's fingers around the pencil. Monica started following Stella around the moment she figured out how to crawl. She tried to do everything the older girl did. "Like that," Stella said, slowly guiding Monica's hand across the paper. "That's an M." Monica grinned, pleased with herself. "And now the O…"

Jack hurried down the stairs. Anger flared in his belly. He was so distracted by images of Cal with arrows sticking out of his neck he collided with a maid as he turned the corner that led to the sitting room. They landed in a heap. "I'm sorry!" he cried, jumping to his feet. He offered her a hand. "I wasn't thinking." She stared at his hand as if it might bite her without warning. "It's alright, sir." She stood up, careful to avoid touching him. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I apologize." She gave a quick curtsy and hurried away before he could say anything else. Jack sighed. It didn't matter how many times he asked them not to Ruth's staff always addressed him as "sir" and kept their eyes lowered.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Ruth said, looking up from her needlework in surprise. "I thought the two of you would be gone the rest of the day." She laid aside piece she had been working on, making sure to keep the threads smooth as she did so. "Is it over already?" He dropped into the chair across from her. "Jack?"

"I need the name of an amazingly, astoundingly _good_ lawyer," he said. "Can you help me with that? The kind of guy who will do anything and not think twice about it as long as I'm paying him to do it."

Ruth didn't know whether to be frightened or overjoyed. Was Jack finally embracing his fortune? It couldn't be that simple; nothing ever was with him. His mouth was thin, his eyes heavy. "I can help you," she said. "I don't suppose you will tell me why, will you? I don't imagine I can induce you to explain this sudden need for ruthless legal representation?"

"I'm through being nice," Jack said darkly. She just nodded, startled by the anger in his voice. He didn't at all resemble the Jack she knew and at times almost loved. "I'll get you a name."

Jack waited while she shuffled through a small box she kept in a locked drawer in her desk. The box contained the calling cards of everyone Ruth had ever known of any consequence. The cards were meticulously filed and alphabetized, one of the few tasks she reserved for herself. After every dinner, every afternoon tea, every party, she would add a new handful of cards, placing them almost lovingly in their respective places. It only took a few seconds for her to find the card she wanted.

"I would suggest you speak to him," she said, handing Jack a card. He nodded slowly. "Thanks."

She followed him to the entry hall. "I assume Rose is going with you," she said. He shrugged into his coat. "She's staying here." He pulled a scarf from his pocket. "She's, uh, staying in bed for the rest of the afternoon."

"Is she alright?" Concern shone in Ruth's eyes. It had been Jack's intention to tell her the truth about what had happened to Rose if she asked about her, but instead he heard himself say, "She'll be fine."

…..

"So what exactly can I help you with, Mr. Dawson?" Ian Phillips leaned back in his chair. He clasped his hands over his chest. He eyed Jack with curious detachment. The rest of the afternoon, indeed the rest of the week, had been completely booked until Jack slipped his secretary a $50 to let him into his office where he had produced another $100 to keep Ian from having him thrown out. Ian glanced at the crisp, perfect bill on his desk. He had only a vague understanding of who Jack was, but he had a total understanding of the implications of that bill.

"Well," Jack said, "I want you to help me completely destroy someone's life." Ian's eyes widened for a split second before returning to normal. "And who would this person be?"

"Caledon Hockley." Jack paused to see what effect the name would have. Ian sat up straight, suddenly alert. "_You_ want to destroy Cal Hockley? What makes you think you can?" Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of twenties. "Well, there's that," he said, tossing the bills onto the desk. "And that I won't stop until his existence is nothing short of a living hell." There was a menacing current running under Jack's calm tone. "I want everything he has, everything he loves to go up in flames. And I want him to see it all."

"You certainly came to the right place then."

Jack's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "That's what I wanted to hear."

….

Jack was lying next to her when Rose opened her eyes. He was gently caressing her face with his fingertips. "Hey," he whispered. She smiled. "You're back." Returning the smile, he said, "And you're finally awake."

"How long did I sleep?"

"It's almost seven."

"What?" She jumped up. "How could I do that?" She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Monica—"

"Has been fed and in every way taken care of." Jack hugged her from behind. "She's sleeping. I just finished singing to her."

Rose reluctantly allowed Jack to lay her back down. She rolled over so she was facing him. "Is Stella alright?" He nodded. "She's fine." He brushed a curl away from her face. "I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you. If anything…" She kissed his fingertips. "Don't worry. I'll be alright." They shared a grin at the memory those words evoked. "You didn't go after him, did you?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. Do you not want me to?"

"I don't want you to get hurt. He could do so much to you—to us—without even lifting a finger of his own if he wanted to." Rose knew she sounded scared, and she was. She was scared of what might happen, of what Cal would decide to do once his head cleared from the damage Jack's fists had done. He had already found so many ways to hurt them before, what was another attempt?

"Nothing's gonna happen to us." Jack pulled her close. "I won't let it. I promise." He knew what he was doing was wrong; how could it not be? But he didn't care. All he could think about was everything Cal had done to them and everything he had tried to do to them. The image of Cal bending Rose back over the table flashed before his eyes. If he hadn't been there—_No!_ _You were there. _But he had been too late to protect her completely, too late to protect her the way he always promise he would. He laid a hand against her belly. _He's the reason she was afraid to tell me. He's the reason she's afraid we can't have another baby. He's the reason we almost couldn't have Monica. _He had nearly killed them and gotten away with it every time.

Jack closed his eyes. Rose sighed happily and snuggled against him. He hugged her tighter. _But not this time. _


	147. Chapter 147

Rose woke up at dawn the next morning. She tossed and turned for an hour in hopes of getting back to sleep before finally getting up. Jack, on the other hand, seemed dead to the world. Snoring softly he rolled onto his side and hugged her pillow to his chest. She couldn't help but smile. He looked so peaceful. It was such a change from how he had been the day before. She brushed the hair away from his face. He murmured something she couldn't understand. "I love you too," she said, brushing her lips across his cheek.

She slowly closed the door that connected their room to Monica's. She was still sleeping. She hugged her blanket to her chest, clutching it as though someone were about to snatch it away. _She sleeps like Jack._ Rose touched her stomach. Would their second baby be like him? She swallowed the lump of fear that formed in her throat. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing had happened to Monica. _So why should it be any different this time?_

Her mother was already dressed and poring over the household account book when Rose came downstairs. "Good morning," Rose said brightly. Ruth hesitated for a moment; what was she supposed to do? "Are you feeling better?" she asked. Rose nodded. "I feel fine—wonderful, actually."

"That's good," Ruth said. Sensing they were about to fall into an awkward silence she added, "Are you the only one up?" If Jack was awake she could call for breakfast to be served; that was sure to keep three of them busy long enough for someone to think of something to say. Of course, she reminded herself, awkward silences and Jack didn't go together. He always managed to have a conversation going.

"I'm afraid so," Rose said apologetically. "Even the children are still sleeping."

"Well, it is rather early still…"

Rose looked around for something to comment on. "Jack would love that," she said, indicating the painting over the fireplace. "That's one of Thomas's finds," Ruth said. "He's sure it will be worth millions one day, but I can't see why anyone would want to look at it. The lines are atrocious. You can't even tell what it is."

"Yes, you can." Rose moved closer to the fireplace. "See this?" she said, pointing at a spot on the painting. "See how the colors blend the way they would if the sun really was shining on the water?"

"All I see is a waste of money."

"Well, it isn't as though you don't have money to burn."

And suddenly there it was the awkwardness they both had been trying to avoid. "It's a good thing," Rose said quickly. "I'm glad you're comfortable." _You didn't need me to get this. You_ _could have gotten it for yourself. In fact, you __**did.**_ "And happy."

"I am happy," Ruth said. She smiled slightly. The words sounded strange. It wasn't something she had ever said before. _Was I_ _happy before now?_ She was sure she must have been. After all, her entire life couldn't have been a miserable waste until the start of her second marriage. _I was happy before,_ she thought. _But it was different. _"Did Jack speak to that lawyer?" Rose gave her a confused look. "What la—" Just then the door opened and in walked Jack carrying Monica. Her face was pinched. She burst out crying the second her eyes landed on Rose.

Rose hurried over to them. "My darling," she cooed, taking her from Jack. "What's wrong? Are you hungry?" She kissed the top of her head. "Let's go feed you." She shot Jack a quick smile as she went out the door.

"Jack, she's gone. There isn't any need to keep staring," Ruth said lightly.

"Well good morning to you too," he said, sitting down in the chair Rose had just left. "I see you're in a fine mood."

"I am. And now that you're awake…." She closed her account book. "I'll ring for breakfast." She hurried out the other door, book tucked under her arm. "I'll just…wait here," he said lamely.

When Rose and Monica returned, now with Stella in tow, he was in front of the fireplace studying the painting. "I knew you would like that," Rose said.

"Did you see—"

"The way he uses color? Yes, of course I saw it." They shared a smile. "It's like what you do," she added. He shook his head. "Not at all. I—" He pointed at the painting. "Don't do that. It's not the same what I do." Rose looked at Stella. "Tell him he's wrong," she said.

"Jack, you really are wrong. I'm not just saying that," she said, taking a seat at the table. Jack sat down across from her. "You wouldn't just say that for Rose?" He leaned forward. She shook her head. "I wouldn't." He glanced up at Rose. "I would," he said. "I'd say anything for her."

…

"Mr. Dawson?" The maid hovered in the doorway. "You have a phone call from a Mr. Phillips." Jack looked up from his drawing. "I'll be right there." Rose and Monica both turned to look at him. "Do you know who it is?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. I'll—I'll explain in a minute, okay?" He kissed the top of her head. She nodded. "Okay." Stella moved closer to her. "You're worried, aren't you?" she said after he was gone. "What? Oh no, darling, not at all. And you shouldn't be either."

"Thank you," Jack said, taking the phone. "Mr. Phillips?"

"Ian, m'boy. Call me Ian," he boomed. "I've got good news for you."

"Oh yeah? Already?"

"You're paying me for results, aren't you? Well, you're getting them. First of all, the custody suit is over. I took care of that before dinner last night. Technically there wasn't anything he could have done, but you never know what the right lawyer can make happen. I got a peek at their case, and I have to tell you it wasn't bad. It wasn't great, I mean I would've led with him being her father and all, but—"

"What?" Jack couldn't believe his ears. "What did you say?"

"Hockley's the girl's father. Didn't you know that?"

"No, um, no, I didn't." Jack's hands felt like icicles. _That can't be…_But now it was all starting to make sense. Of course Cynthia wanted her back now. _That was probably her plan all along. The second Rose handed her_ _that diamond she knew what she was gonna do with it. _

"Jack? You still there?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm still here."

"Good. Thought I'd lost you. Now, the thing is we can go one of two ways. We can either push what he did to your wife or we can go after—"

"We're not dropping that." Jack's voice was hard. "And whatever else you've found out, do that too. I don't care what it is."

"Alright. If you're sure."

"I am."

Jack's head ached when he hung up the phone. He sighed heavily. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. "Jack." Rose laid a hand on his shoulder. His head snapped up. "Rose." His eyes brightened. "Are you alright?" she asked, touching his face. He smiled. "I'm fine," he said, kissing her palm.

"You aren't fine. I can see it." She looked deep into his eyes. "It's him, isn't it? Jack, what's going on?" He covered her hand with his. "He's getting what he deserves."

**AN: The next one will be more exciting. Review please!**


	148. Chapter 148

Cal flattened his hands on the tabletop. He spoke slowly, deliberately. "What exactly are you saying?" Harrison hesitated before answering. "I'm saying you're being sued for what happened the other day, for—for what you did." Cal's nostrils flared, but that was the only sign of anger he showed. "What about what he did?" he said. "What about the way he nearly killed me?"

Harrison's eyes moved across his face. It had been transformed by Jack's fists; his features were now buried under black bruises and cuts where the skin had broken under Jack's knuckles. His lip wasn't swollen anymore, but his one of his eyes only opened halfway. "You can always file a counter-suit," Harrison said. "In fact, that's what I would advise you to do."

…..

Ian pressed the tips of his fingers to his chin. "Am I supposed to take this seriously?" He looked from Cal to Harrison. "Are you trying to insult the intelligence of both myself and my client?" Cal's mouth twitched slightly as if he were biting back a reply. Jack smiled at him from across the table. "Something you want to say?" Cal contented himself with a glare.

"Look, I'm afraid we really can't take this seriously," Ian said. "You simply don't have a case." He slid the folder across the table. "But it was nice to see you again, Harrison," he said, standing up. Cal jumped to his feet. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, incredulous. "We aren't finished here."

"Oh, we're quite finished," Jack said smoothly. Fury burned in his blue eyes. "That is, until we see you in court."

"I don't know what you think you're doing," Cal hissed, "but it won't—"

"I would think you'd be advising your client to refrain from making threats," Jack said, never taking his eyes off Cal. "Wouldn't want things to get even worse for him, would you?" Harrison leaned toward Cal. "I know he's trash in good clothes, but he has a point," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. Cal watched Jack's face, hoping for a reaction, but none came.

Jack let out a heavy sigh when the door closed behind them. His shoulders drooped. A sharp pain filled the back of his head. "Not having second thoughts, are you?" Ian said. "Because if you are—" Jack's head snapped up. "No." Ian admired the quiet anger with which he spoke. "Just making sure," he said. "And you still want me to look into—"

"Yes."

….

The pillow smelled like Jack. Rose smiled and pressed her face into it. "Mmmm….Jack," she murmured. His lips brushed across her ear. "Yes?" Her eyes flew open. "Jack?" She shot up. "When did you get back?"

"About half an hour ago." Gently, he pulled her back down. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest. "I needed to get up anyway." His fingertips traced a pattern on her arm. "You don't have to get up. I can take care of the children."

"Jack, you don't—"

"What? Don't have to?" He kissed her forehead. "They're mine too." She tilted her head up. "I know, but you shouldn't be doing everything yourself." He kissed her. "Don't worry about me." He hugged her tighter. "We'll go back home soon," he said softly. "We will?" He nodded. "As soon as this is all over…in a week or two…less, if I can manage it."

"Is that really all the time it will take?"

"Should be." Ian had found a way to get their case pushed to the top of the list; instead of waiting weeks or even months to go before a judge they were scheduled to be in court the following day. Jack didn't know what he had done, and he didn't much care. He just wanted it all to be over. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I started feeling sick this morning, but it was over so quickly it was almost as though it never happened."

Jack kissed her again, lingering this time. "Tell me if it changes?" She nodded and smiled. "You know I will." She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. There was a heaviness in his eyes; his smile was dimmer than usual. "Jack, we don't have to do this," she said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "We could just go home now, forget about all of this."

"Do you want to do that?" _And what'll he do next time?_ a voice in the back of Jack's mind asked. _He's already beaten her, almost killed her, might've almost raped her, tried to take your daughter. Do you really want to give him any more chances? You want to walk away again?_

_I will if she asks me to. _

Rose studied his face. "No," she said finally. "I want to finish this. I want him out of our lives, finally, forever." She kissed him. "I want you to stop worrying," she whispered. "I want you to be happy again."

….

Jack squeezed her hand. "We can do this," he said, more to himself than to her. Rose nodded. "We can." She kissed his knuckles. "It won't be so bad." She laughed quietly. "It can't possibly be as bad as last time." Jack pulled her into a hug. "Don't you even think about that," he said. She wrapped her arms around him. "Don't you think about it either."

"You really think you can win, Dawson?" Cal's voice cut through the air like a knife. He glared at them from across the room. "You've been listening to her too much if you do." Jack's arms tightened around Rose. She took his face in her hands. "Don't listen to him," she said. He grinned down at her. "I wasn't gonna." Cal's scowl deepened with along with their kiss. Cynthia stood next to him, her arm securely locked around his. Rose felt her glare on the back of her head. _Ignore her. _

Things moved quickly after that. The next thing Rose knew the opening arguments were over and witnesses were being called. She moved closer to Jack, suddenly terrified. The thought of sitting in that box again, of having someone fire questions at her and then ridicule her answers was just too much. He put an arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to do anything," he whispered. "Don't be afraid, honey."

Ian called Cal first. For a moment he looked surprised, as if he had expected to hear a different name. He glanced at Harrison who nodded for him to go. Once on the stand he could see everything. The courtroom was packed. There were people even standing in the aisle and along the walls. Journalists scribbled notes. Somewhere near the back there was the flash of a camera. He had to be calm. There were too many people who would see if he lost control. That many people could never be placated with a polite word and a gift. There would be no explaining it away.

"State your name please," Ian said.

"Caledon Hockley."

"Now, Mr. Hockley, do you have any explanation for what happened between you and my client, Mrs. Dawson?"

Cal's jaw tightened but his tone remained even. "I don't know to what you are referring. Mrs. Dawson—" He gagged more than said the name. "—and I have had a long and sordid history, most of which was through no fault of my own."

"But we aren't here about any of that," Ian said briskly. "We're here about what happened only days ago. It was during the hearings regarding your custody suit. I'm sure you remember."

"If you're referring to when I was brutally assaulted, then yes, I remember that well."

"Assaulted? Why, Mr. Hockley, the only person who was assaulted that day was my client. I'm sure you must remember. After all, you did it."

A collective gasp moved across the room. Whispers fluttered through the air like tiny birds. Was that the same woman—? Hadn't he—? A child? Cynthia felt the eyes of the spectators on her, inspecting her. She's the wife, they were saying. Where did she come from again? She lifted her chin. Where she had come from didn't matter, only where she was now. Rose stole a glance at her out of the corner of her eye. Her face was hard. She looked more like a marble carving than a woman. _But she has to be,_ she thought, _to be married to him._

"I did nothing," Cal said. "I simply wanted to speak with her. I thought she would more reasonable than her husband given that logical thought is not popular among the lower classes." He caught Jack's eye. "I know he tries, but he'll always be an almost." Jack's expression was unreadable. He could have been thinking anything, and for all Cal knew he wasn't even listening.

"Let's stick to the point, shall we?" Ian said. "I don't care to hear your thoughts on life, and I'm sure no-one else does either." Cal's mouth thinned. Who was he to speak to him that way? "So you're saying," Ian continued, "you did not strike her? You did not physically attack her at all?"

"I most certainly did not! If anyone hit her it was probably that gutter rat she married." Jack's face didn't change. Rose laid her head on his shoulder. He slowly began to stroke her hair. But if Cal's words had any impact on him it didn't show. _Goddamnit! What is wrong with him? _"I wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't at the bottom of this whole thing," he said. "He's been accusing me of harming her for years."

"So you're saying you didn't do anything? Mr. Dawson hits his wife and then constructs stories to blame you for it?" Ian shot the jury a look. "I don't know about anyone else, but I find that incredibly difficult to believe."

Cal flattened his hands, pressing his palms against his knees. "I don't see why it's so hard to believe," he said, making every effort to sound reasonable. "People like him will do anything." But it was clear from the looks he was receiving that the crowd didn't see Jack quite the way he did.


	149. Chapter 149

**AN: There is M in this one. Thanks for reviewing! And if you haven't feel free to do so! And thanks JLuckyJ for the peanut butter sandwich idea.  
**

Cal closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. Everything was going wrong. People were supposed to agree when he insulted Jack not narrow their eyes and whisper behind their hands. They were supposed to nod encouragingly and affirm the natural baseness of his existence, just like they always did. Only this time they weren't. Not a single person was looking Cal in the face. _What the hell is going on?_ he wondered. _They can't be….they aren't taking __**his **__side? _

"That will be all, Mr. Hockley," Ian said. "I think we've heard more than enough from you." Cal stared at him dumbly. "You may step down," the judge said, leaning toward him. "Oh…oh yes," Cal said. He stood up slowly. Jack caught his eye as he made his way back to his seat. He smiled sweetly. "That wasn't so difficult was it?" he murmured. Cal scowled at him. "You just wait until this is over." He took a menacing step forward. "I will—" Jack's smile brightened. "Go on," he said. "Tell me."

"Sit down, Mr. Hockley," the judge said impatiently. "You're holding up the proceedings."

Satisfied, Jack leaned back in his chair. "Are you sure that was a smart thing to do?" Rose whispered. She glanced over at Cal. His face was a blank mask, but his eyes burned with rage. "Don't worry," Jack said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "He's not gonna do anything. Not anymore."

Rose curled her hands protectively around her stomach. She could just barely feel the beginnings of a bump that hadn't been there the day before. She closed her eyes. The sounds of the court, the chairs scraping the floor as someone stood up, the flipping of pages, the arguments, all faded into a soft hum. None of it mattered.

Jack pressed his hand against hers. "You alright?" She nodded without opening her eyes. A shiver went down her back as his breath blew against her neck. "If something's wrong, tell me," he said. He kissed her cheek. She smiled and leaned toward him. "I'm fine." She slipped her hand out from under his. His palm lay flat against her stomach. His breath caught in his throat. "Rose…"

"I know."

….

Jack stood at the window, a forgotten peanut butter sandwich in his hand. The street below was empty. Gated mansions, each grander than the last, were all he could see. How had he, of all people, ended up in the richest neighborhood in Philadelphia? How had he ended up in _any_ rich neighborhood?

"What do you see?"

He jumped, startled by the sound of Rose's voice. "A lot of the same thing," he said. "That's what I see too," she said. "I always found it interesting how they all repeat. Each house is just a variation on the one next to it." He nodded. "I noticed that."

"Do you see that one?"

"The yellow one?"

"I grew up in that one…..isn't that strange? To be standing here looking at it?" She glanced at him. His eyes were heavy with questions. "Can I have some of your sandwich?" she said. "You can have it all," he said, offering it to her. She broke it in half. "No. We'll share." They ate in silence. Rose kept sneaking looks at him.

"What?" he said, catching her eye. He grinned. "Do I have peanut butter on my face?" She shook her head. "No." He cupped her cheek. "It's just overwhelming to look at me, isn't it?" he joked. "No-one eats a peanut butter sandwich like I do."

"They really don't." She laughed, suddenly nervous. _What is wrong with me?_ It was as though she were seeing him for the first time. Her skin tingled under his hand. "Jack…." She curled her hand around his. "Rose, are you okay?" Nodding, she moved closer to him. The look in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. "Rose…."

It felt like they were both moving too fast and yet not at all. Rose wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. He flattened his hands against her back and pressed her to him. His fingers slid over the buttons on her dress. "Take it off of me," she whispered, moving her lips to his neck. "Is that all?"

"And then take me to bed." She unbuttoned his pants and slipped a hand inside. He swallowed a groan. "I can't walk with your hand there." She slowly stroked him with her fingertips. "Are you sure?"

Without warning he swung her up into his arms. She squealed happily. "Jack!" Her fingers twisted in his hair and she pulled him in for a kiss. He stumbled to the bed. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs. Jack's mouth found Rose's breasts as her hands found their way back into his pants. He ran his tongue over her nipples and cursed the fabric that kept him from tasting her skin.

"I believe I asked you for something," she said haughtily. He raised his head. Her eyes sparkled with desire. "And what was that, miss?" he teased. She curled her fingers around his swollen member. Groaning softly he pressed himself into her hand. "Rose…" His cheeks were flushed. "Now will you take this dress off me?"

…

"What do you mean you can't do anything about this?" Cal demanded incredulously. "There has to be something! It isn't as though he's—"

"Important?" Harrison interrupted. "That's where you're wrong, I'm sorry to say. He may not have been important the last time you saw him, but he sure as hell is now." He lowered himself into the chair closest to the fireplace. The ice in his drink clinked against the glass. "I know you don't want to hear this, but—"

"I don't pay you to tell me things I don't want to hear," Cal said coldly. "I pay you to make things happen."

Harrison sighed. "You are not dealing with some penniless vagabond anymore. The court will not just ignore him the way they did last time. You can't win this by attacking him. It won't work anymore even if what you're saying is true." He turned up his drink and finished it in one gulp. "Yes, well, I'll just have to find another way, won't I?" Cal said eying him with contempt.

"I'm not sure how. He isn't poor—far from it in fact—and he's one of the most well liked people I've ever come across. I've never seen a nouveau riche be taken in so utterly by society."

"Everyone loves him. Yes, I know," Cal sneered. "The little bastard only has to walk into a room and every woman in it is ready to tear off her dress and fling herself at him."

"Is that how he got that wife?"

"That wife of his was supposed to be mine!" Cal slammed his drink down on the table. "Your wife is far superior," Harrison said, pouring himself another drink. "In case you hadn't noticed." Cal muttered a reply and turned to face the fire. Cynthia _was_ superior to Rose in some ways, but in others…. He clenched his jaw as the memory of her body washed over him. Cynthia was attractive, beautiful when she wanted to be, but she didn't hold a candle to Rose. But that wasn't the only reason he kept thinking about her. There were other women more attractive than Cynthia, women who were just as willing as she, if not more, to be waiting naked for him when he came to bed. Looks alone weren't what kept him thinking about Rose. "Just once if I could…." he murmured.

"If you could what?" Harrison said.

Cal turned around. "I may have an idea."


	150. Chapter 150

Jack had just made it to the bottom of the stairs when Ruth appeared. He jumped back, startled. "Hey," he said, breaking into a smile. "I didn't expect to see you so early." She just stood there, her mouth a thin line and her hands clasped over her stomach. "What exactly is your plan?" she asked calmly.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't belittle my intelligence and I won't belittle yours. You know perfectly well what I mean, Jack. What is your plan for getting out of this debacle?"

"How much do you know?"

"I know what the papers and everyone else is saying. I know you're suing Cal for every cent he has and then some."

"Do you know why? Have they said that?"

She held out a newspaper. "Read it for yourself."

Jack frowned as he read the headline "Artist in squabble with tycoon". He quickly skimmed the article, muttering to himself as he read. "They only have half the story, as usual," he said, annoyed. He moved to step past her. She blocked him. "And what exactly is the other half?"

"The other half is _why_ we're doing this. They're making this whole thing out to be something it isn't. We don't care about his money. We barely care about our own. Why would we want someone else's?"

"Then why are you going after it?"

Jack smiled sadly. "Because it's the best way to go after him. It's the _only_ way to go after him."

"But why 'go after him', as you say, at all? You married her, didn't you? You took care of his wife's claim on that child. Why not just leave things be?"

"We tried that. It didn't work. It's never worked, not for long anyway. There's always something else he wants, and if we don't give it to him he's gonna throw a tantrum and start shooting people or…." He sighed. "I can't let things go on like that. Rose doesn't deserve to have her life go on like that. He's done enough to her, more than I should've ever let happen."

"I knew about the shooting," Ruth said quietly. "I read about it after it happened."

"Thought you would."

"I—" She twisted her hands. "I never wanted anything like that to happen. I thought I did. I said it plenty of times, but the morning I picked up the newspaper and saw her name…I couldn't believe it at first. It was all so surreal."

"You should've been there," he said, an edge creeping into his tone. The image of Rose bleeding in his arms flashed before his eyes. He clenched his jaw. "It was plenty real. And I should've done this then, but I didn't because I just wanted it to be over. I wanted us to go back to the way we were."

"Do you really think you can win? Honestly, Jack, this is not your forte."

"Yeah, I know." He gave a short laugh. "But I understand people. I understand _him. _He's underestimated me for a long time—for the last time."

…..

"Come Josephine," Rose sang softly as she carried Monica down the stairs. "My flying machine…" Monica smiled up at her. She laid her head on her shoulder and grabbed the front of her dress. "My darling," Rose said, kissing the top of her head. Her curls were like silk. "She looks more and more like you everyday," Jack said, suddenly appearing at her elbow. Monica's smile widened at the sight of him. "Da!" she cried happily, reaching for him.

"What is it, Santa Monica?" He carefully settled her into his arms. "I'd rather be held by your mother," he said. "As though you could hold yourself," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "I could try. I've drawn myself."

"And you've never let me see?" She clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Jack Dawson, I can't believe you would keep such a thing from me!"

Stella watched them from the top of the stairs. She hadn't seen either of them laugh since their arrival in Philadelphia. She didn't know exactly why they were there—and she knew better than to ask—but she was sure it had something to do with her. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. _They're not sending me away. I know they aren't. Jack said they weren't, and he wouldn't lie. _But what was going on then?

She smiled as Jack caught her eye. "Why're you just standing up there, Stella Maris?" he called. Rose turned around. "Well, come here," she said with a wave of her hand. The knot in Stella's stomach untied itself.

It returned, however, when Jack and Rose prepared to leave the breakfast table. She could tell they were leaving more than the table by the looks on their faces. "Are you going to be gone all day again?" she asked. Rose looked up from Monica who was trying desperately to reach the floor. "Who said we were leaving?"

"I can tell," Stella said, smiling wryly. "You have that look."

_If I didn't know better I would think she was Jack's child,_ Rose thought_. _"We'll try not to be," Jack said, placing a quick kiss on her head. "We still love you." She nodded. "And I love you." Rose didn't know what came over her but without warning she found herself saying, "Why don't you go with us?"

Jack shot her a puzzled look. "Would that be okay? I mean, considering…."

"Well, I've gone and said it without thinking," Rose said, frowning. "Really, Rose," Ruth said. "Does that seem like an appropriate thing to do?" Rose's frown deepened. "Let's ask her," Jack said, sensing an argument was about to erupt between them. "Stella, do you know what we've been doing?"

"Not really."

"We've been in court the past few days," Rose explained. "But we're almost finished now."

"About me?"

Jack and Rose exchanged glances. "At first," Jack said slowly. "But not anymore. We—we had to argue with some people about keeping you. And now we're just fighting with people," he added with a sigh.

…

The courtroom overflowed with people. The Dawsons versus The Hockleys was the biggest story of the year and flashbulbs greeted their arrival. Monica buried her face in Rose's neck. "It's okay darling," Rose said soothingly. "I've got you." Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "She alright?" he asked. "She doesn't like the noise," Rose replied.

Once they were settled on the plaintiffs' bench Monica began to show an interest in her surroundings. She watched the crowd with wide eyes. She pointed at the things that caught her attention the most. "I wish you could tell us what you're thinking," Rose said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Oh she will," Jack said. His smile faded as Cal strode past them. He threw a contemptuous glance over his shoulder. Rose's arms tightened around Monica. "Don't worry," Jack said. He lightly caressed her cheek. "Nothing's gonna happen. Trust me?"

"I trust you."

Stella watched Cal stop to talk with a group of journalists. Everything about him changed. He smiled beautifully; his body loosened. But she could still tell he was acting. _Why can't they?_ "You okay?" Jack asked. She nodded. "We're fighting him, aren't we?"

"Yeah. We're fighting him." _We're always fighting him._

Cynthia's gasp carried over the din of the crowd. Jack and Rose whipped their heads around just in time to see her cover her open mouth with both hands. "You get to keep me, right?" Stella said. "We get to keep you," Rose said. "Don't worry about that." But Stella grabbed Jack's hand anyway.

"First you take her from me, and now you're flaunting it?" Cynthia cried. Her eyes narrowed on Rose. "And you, with a child of your own!" If Monica hadn't been in her arms Rose would have leapt across the aisle and hit her, but since she couldn't she contented herself with a scorching glare. A herd of journalists swarmed around Cynthia. Cal stood off to the side, smiling. This wasn't part of his plan at all, but he was enjoying it immensely nonetheless.


	151. Chapter 151

"Let me take her," Jack said, reaching for Monica. Rose shook her head. She pressed the baby to her chest. "I need to hold her," she said. He squeezed her shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about." Rose let out a deep breath. "I know. But there will be if my arms are free."

Stella couldn't take her eyes off Cynthia. There she was, her mother. _Mother._ The word echoed hollowly in her ears. It didn't quite fit. Privately she had always thought of her as Cynthia. She was an entity all her own with goals and dreams that didn't always include Stella whether she admitted it or not. "I'm doing this for us," she would say just before the start of another one of her schemes. Stella remembered the way she would stand in the kitchen of their apartment in Philadelphia, palms flat against the counter, staring intently at something only she could see. "I'll get it this time," she said, "and everything will be different."

But it never was. The scheme would fail, the man would leave, and Cynthia would sit at the kitchen table with a bottle between her hands until a new idea came to her. Stella had always liked those times the best. She was free to come and go as she pleased, a stack of books under her arm and absolutely no criticism from her mother about "all that reading".

Cynthia beamed at the cameras. A large diamond ring sparkled each time she moved her left hand. Diamonds hung from her ears and encircled her neck. Her dress was a pale pink, silk and French lace. She wore a white fur coat. _She finally got it,_ Stella thought. _One of them finally married her. _

"That's enough," the judge barked. "This isn't a circus." He turned to Ian. "I believe you're starting today's proceedings." Ian nodded. "Yes, your honor. I'd like to begin with Exhibit A." He held up a folder. "Inside are photographs which illustrate the physical harm inflicted upon my client by the defendant. I think you'll find them to be very interesting."

"Bring them up here."

Rose felt Cynthia's eyes on her. She clenched her jaw and breathed deeply. Monica, sensing something was wrong, twisted her dress in her tiny fingers. Rose gently patted her back. "It's all right, darling," she whispered.

Jack moved closer to her. He slipped his arm around her waist. Her body was stiff, her muscles tense. He wanted to kiss the lines from her face. On his other side Stella sat with the same rigidity. Every few minutes her eyes would slowly wander over to Cynthia and Cal; she would study them for a moment before jerking her attention back to the front of the room. He put his other arm around her shoulders. She sank against him with a sigh. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," he said. She closed her eyes. "I know." He kissed the top of her head. _Just like Rose. _

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur, and at noon an exhausted Rose stood up. Monica was sleeping deeply, her head on Rose's shoulder. "Here, let me carry her out," Jack said. Rose didn't bother to protest. She took Stella's hand and they slowly began to make their way to the door. Every step was punctuated by a call from a reporter. The flashbulbs made Stella dizzy. Monica, frightened by the noise, began to cry. Jack bounced her gently. "Ssshhh….It's okay honey." He glared at the crowd swarming around them. Didn't they have any respect? He was too busy comforting Monica and controlling his anger to notice when the crowd swallowed Rose and Stella.

"I see she finally gave you a child." Cynthia was so close she was almost speaking into his ear. "What did you have to do to entice the princess into such an act of generosity?" Jack ignored her and continued fighting his way to the door. But she would not be deterred so easily. "I'm not surprised she left her with you," she said. "She leaves everything else to you. I doubt she'd last an hour on her own. She wouldn't even be able to feed herself if you weren't there to do the cooking."

"Don't talk about her," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare talk about her."

"Or what? We both know you won't do anything. You don't have it in you, and even if you did there are people everywhere."

"If you mean I won't hit you then you're right. I'm not like your husband."

Cynthia stopped in her tracks. A deep blush covered her cheeks. "How dare you say such a thing!" She pointed a trembling finger at him. "You wouldn't know the first thing about being a man. It's a disgrace the way you behave. You don't have a real career. You spoil your wife."

"You didn't think that when you were trying to get me to leave her for you," Jack said calmly. Her eyes widened. "I did no such thing!" By now there was a circle around them. Reporters were eagerly scribbling their every word into pocket sized notebooks. "When did this happen?" one of them called. "Is that why you gave them your daughter?" another asked. Jack tried to keep going, but the crowd blocked him. "Jack!" called yet another reporter, "did you have an affair with her?"

"Does your wife know?"

"Is that really your child?"

A dull ache filled the space behind his eyes. "Move out of the way," he said threateningly. His face was like stone. Slowly the crowd parted. The questions kept coming, but he blocked them out. Monica stared at the sea of faces with wide, curious eyes. She pressed her cheek to Jack's neck and flattened one of her chubby hands against his chest. "I've got you," he said softly. He rubbed her back. "You don't ever have to be afraid."

…..

Cal pushed his food around his plate with his fork. He had managed to take one bite before his stomach decided to reject all offerings. At the other end of the table Cynthia was eating just fine though each bite tasted more and more like dust. "I can't believe that happened," she said, breaking the thick silence that hung between them. "How could he be taken seriously?" She stabbed a piece of chicken breast with her fork. "Has the world gone mad?"

"He hasn't won yet," Cal said. "Don't hand him a victory he doesn't deserve."

"I don't even want to know what will be in the morning papers," she said, shaking her head. "I don't see how anyone could possibly take his side after the way he spoke to me today." She lowered her head and watched Cal's face through her lashes, hoping for a reaction. His mouth twisted slightly. He laid down his fork. "Yes, something will have to be done about that. It's sickening the way they've been allowed to do as they please."

"Of course, you can do something about that," she simpered. "I just know it." He flashed her a smile. "Of course I can, my dear."

….

Harrison shuffled the stack of papers on his desk. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Cal's eyes hardened. "I don't pay you to question me," he said. "I'm not questioning you," Harrison said. "I'm just not sure dragging them—and yourself—into litigation hell is the smartest thing to do."

"I don't intend to actually go through with any of it."

"You don't?"

Cal gave him a withering look. "Of course not. And even if I wanted to that spineless pansy wouldn't let me. He would die before letting her be subjected to something like this. Actually, that doesn't sound so bad."

"I'm sure he wouldn't—"

"Oh, he would," Cal said, rolling his eyes. "He thinks of himself as her knight and protector. It's disgusting the way he grovels at her feet. But then again, what can you expect from his type?"

"Public opinion is in his favor, you know. People like him. They like all of them, actually. It's the perfect image, young, attractive Romeo and Juliet without the suicide and their infant da daughter and the illegitimate niece they're raising as their own. It doesn't look good that your wife gave her up."

"That was their fault," Cal said dismissively. "She can't be held responsible for a coerced action. It doesn't matter anyway. They've got the brat. They should just leave well enough alone."

"Did you ever think," Harrison chose his words carefully, "that perhaps you should have left well enough alone? Was it absolutely necessary to assault the woman?" Cal shot him a black look. "I'm not saying she doesn't deserve it," Harrison said, "but did you have to do it in a place you knew you were going to get caught?"

"I wasn't thinking," Cal snapped.

"I'll say."

"If that's all you have to offer I might have to take my money somewhere else." Cal stood up. "I can see you will be of no use to me."

"Wait, wait!" Harrison said quickly. He held his hands up. "I can help you. Don't worry about that. I just want you to understand you're in for months of paperwork, briefings, and endless days in the courtroom."

"I won't be dealing with any of that. You will." Cal tossed a stack of twenties onto the desk. The money landed with a _slap._ Harrison touched it tentatively. "I'm sure that's enough to see you through this."

"But what's the point?" Harrison asked. "Can you tell me that? He sues you. You sue him back. It's an asinine cycle."

"The point is to remind him who he is dealing with. He needs to remember his place in the world. Money or no money, he's still just a gutter rat and she's still a slut, and if they want a fight they'll lose."

The next morning as he sat down to breakfast Cal smiled at the newspaper next to his plate. The second part of his plan was already in effect. "America's favorite couple a sham?" read the headline. The reporter he had called with an anonymous tip had done his job well. By noon every member of society was discussing Rose's newly discovered—and numerous—affairs.

**AN: Sorry it took so long. The next one will be up this weekend. Review please!**


	152. Chapter 152

Jack couldn't believe his eyes. He kept reading the words over and over; they made less and less sense each time. Finally he set the paper down, anger coursing through him. His jaw was set, his hands steady and flat on the arms of his chair. "That son of a bitch." He stood up slowly, unsure of what to do next. He didn't want Rose to see it, he knew that much for certain. He grabbed the paper and prepared to toss it into the fire. But what good would that do? He couldn't burn every paper in Philadelphia. "Goddamnit," he muttered.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

He looked up, startled by the sound of Rose's voice. Her eyes were filled with concern. He hadn't even noticed her hand on his arm. "Jack?" She touched his face. "What is it?" He kissed her hand. "I love you." Fear crept into her voice. "I love you too. Jack, what—"

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing her hand. "I—this is not what I meant to happen. I'm gonna fix it though."

"What did he do now?"

With a sigh Jack handed her the newspaper. He studied her face as she read but it was like stone. "Who are these people?" she said calmly.

"What?"

"The people in this article, the one who claim to have had affairs with me. Who are they? Where did he find them? Are they even real?"

Jack stared at her, speechless. He had been too shocked and angry to think of anything beyond introducing Cal's head to a rock. "Does it matter? I mean, it's already been written, and I'm sure there's more where that came from."

"Of course it matters! Jack, we can't let him do this. Didn't we start this mess because we wanted to stop him for good?" She cupped his cheek. "Don't tell me you've given up."

"No. No, I haven't. I just didn't expect…_this_. I—" He sighed. "It's you." She gently stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I know how you feel, but it doesn't matter what these people say. None of it can hurt us. We know it isn't true, and that's all that matters." He leaned into her hand. "You know what people'll be saying about you." She smiled slightly. "Those aren't words I haven't heard before."

….

Cal stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. "What in the hell are _you_ doing here?" Rose smiled sweetly from the other side of his desk. "I'm here to talk to you." She gestured toward the chair in front of him. "Sit down, won't you?"

"How did you get in here?" he snapped. "Gladys!" he yelled over his shoulder. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Rose said. He glared at her. "I wouldn't do anything you do," he said icily.

"Fine. Call her in here. Call the whole building in here while you're at it. You do need more publicity after all."

"I'm not the one all over the papers," he mocked. "That would be you." He closed the door. "What do you want?"

"Sit down."

Scowling, he sat. "Where is your gutter half? I can't imagine him leaving you alone. Never can tell what you might do."

"I wouldn't leave her alone with _you_," Jack said. Cal's head whipped around. Jack stood in the far corner of the room. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes were hard. "But I'm so glad you were concerned," he added, smiling. Cal's face twisted in disgust. "You've ruined my wall."

"I'm sure you can afford another. For now."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Rose said, "you won't be able to by the time we're through with you. Legal fees—" She began ticking items off on her hand. "What we'll win from you—"

"You think you'll win something?" Cal scoffed. "_You_?" Rose's smiled widened. "Well, we've already pretty much won the suit, and this little attempt to turn the tide against us, unpleasant as it is, just won't enough to erase what people think about you these days. It should make a nice case for libel though," she added. "I'm sure _that_ will cut a nice sized hole in your bank account even if we don't win." Cal scowled at her. "And you won't."

"Well, that remains to be seen, but a victory won't come cheaply for you."

"Not as simple as dropping a necklace in my pocket anymore, is it?" Jack added. Cal stood up quickly. Jack stepped forward, fists at his sides. "Go on," he said calmly. "Make a move. I'd love to hit you again."

"Let's try not to let it come to that," Rose said. She narrowed her eyes. "Sit down," she ordered. Startled, Cal obeyed. "Now," she continued, "We would like to offer you a deal."

Twenty minutes later Jack and Rose were stepping onto the sidewalk. They didn't even feel the cold wind whipping their hair back. They were too ecstatic to feel anything. "I can't believe it!" Rose said. "I can't believe we really did that!"

"Me either." Jack shook his head. "That was…." He squeezed her hand. "You were amazing."

There was a letter in the next morning's paper retracting the article about Rose. The men who claimed to be her lovers, it was revealed, were actually reporters who were arrested that afternoon for taking bribes. Jack and Rose agreed to let the lawsuit drop if Cal donated the money they would have won to a fund for artists they had created. He and Cynthia were also to sign a contract stating they would never try to dispute their lack of a claim on Stella. In return Jack and Rose agreed not to sue for libel; nor would Jack continue his investigation into Cal's business practices. They left for home the next morning, and even Monica seemed happy to see Philadelphia fade into the distance.

The next few months went by without incident. They celebrated Monica's first birthday in February. It was also the day she first said "Mama" clearly. Rose scooped her up immediately. "Say it again, darling," she begged. Monica just smiled. "Oh, please! Jack, did you hear her?"

"I heard." He was grinning widely. He placed a kiss on Monica's head. "I bet she can say a lot. She's just waiting."

"Do you really think that?"

"Wouldn't surprise me." He put his arm around Rose's shoulders. "She's grown so much." Rose shook her head. "I can't believe it. It feels like she was just born, and you were carrying her around and scaring Mother's maids."

"A man and a baby. Terrifying," Jack said with a laugh.

"My father never held me," Rose said.

"Never?"

"Not once."

"Well, I'm gonna hold all of our babies," he said. Rose raised an eyebrow. "All? And how many are we having?" Before he could answer Monica began trying to squirm her way out of Rose's arms. "Alright darling," she said, setting her on the floor. Overjoyed, Monica began to crawl across the floor to Stella's chair. She sat on her knees and held her arms up. Carefully, Stella bent down and lifted her into the chair. She settled into the older girl's lap and began to point at the pages of her book. "I'll read to you," Stella said.

Jack pulled Rose closer. "Aren't they beautiful?" Rose whispered. He nodded and kissed her temple. "And this one will be too," he said, placing a gentle hand on the swell of her stomach. "And so how many babies are we having?" she asked, tilting her head up. He kissed her. "However many you want."

"I can't believe this is happening," Rose said later that night. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her stomach seemed to have doubled in size without her noticing. She ran her hands over it. "Did I get this big so fast with Monica?"

"I think so." Jack slipped his arms around her from behind. He kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. Everything's fine."

"I can't help but worry. We went from never being able to—and now—"

"I know." He laid his hands over hers. "I know, honey."

A few days later Rose woke up with a fever and sharp pains in her side. "Jack!" she cried. He shot up. "What's wrong?" She clutched her side. "I'm not sure," she said fearfully. "Does it hurt?" he asked. She nodded. "Okay," he said. "Where?" She pointed to her right side. "Is it bad?" She nodded again. Tears filled her eyes. "Okay," he said. "I'm gonna take care of this." He kissed her forehead. It was hot and clammy. "Don't worry, honey." She grabbed his arm as he moved to climb out of the bed. "Don't go."

"I'll be right back," he said. He kissed her hand. "I promise. I'm not leaving you."

"Jack, please, don't," she begged, clutching his hand. A lump formed in his throat. "One minute," he said. "Just one minute. I promise."

It did only take him a minute to call the doctor and explain the situation, but it took the doctor a half an hour to arrive. Fortunately, Monica and Stella were still asleep. Jack stayed in the room while the doctor examined Rose. He kneeled next to the bed, her hand clutched in both of his. "It's gonna be fine," he said, kissing her knuckles.

"Yes, it is," the doctor said.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Jack asked, bracing himself for the worst.

"It's her appendix. I'm afraid it'll have to come out."

"My appendix?" Rose said, confused. "Out?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," the doctor answered. "You'll be fine."

"But what about the baby?" she asked anxiously. "Will this—"

"Well…" He shifted from one foot to the other. "There is a slight risk—"

"No." Rose turned to Jack. "We can't do that."

"Rose, honey, I know how you feel, but if we don't, you'll die." He cradled her face in his hands. "We can't make another you."

The surgery only lasted about an hour, but to Jack it seemed like a day. He was shaking when the doctor finally told him Rose and the baby were fine. "Can I see her?" he asked. He didn't bother to wait for an answer. Rose was just barely awake when he came in. "Hey," he said softly. She smiled up at him. "Jack." He dropped to his knees next to her. "How're you feelin?" He took her hand. "I'm okay," she whispered. She smiled weakly. "And the baby is okay too." He kissed her. "I heard." He pressed her hand to his cheek. "Jack, can we name this one Anthony?"

"Yeah, we can. Why that?"

"I had this dream…" She yawned. "Just now and we had a son named Anthony in it…." He stayed by her side until long after she fell asleep.

On July 15th their son, Anthony Jack Dawson, was born. "He's beautiful," Jack said, handing him to Rose. "He is," she said, awe in her voice. "We really made another one." He laughed softly. "We really did." He kissed the top of her head. "And this one has your hair too."

_The End_

**AN: I hope you have enjoyed this story! I've really enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to review. It encourages me to know there are people reading. I'm planning a sequel that will take place a few years in the future, and it should be posted in the next few weeks. **


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